Fanganronpa: Off the Hook
by Tails-is-pwnage
Summary: Twenty young adults are taken from their homes and forced to play in some bizarre killing game. Tyson Jin, a budding tactician, is determined to save as many lives as possible. But as the rules of the game become clear, how far will he go to save a life?
1. Prologue: Setting Up the Chessboard

**The following is a Danganronpa Fanfiction using English character names. If you have trouble inserting yourself into the atmosphere of a Danganronpa without Japanese names, this story may not be for you.**

 **This Fanganronpa features a main character who is likely not agreeable at times. His actions are his own, and this author does not condone every choice he makes. This story will involve many high-stress and high-risk choices that will shake the morals of several of the characters featured.**

 **This Fanganronpa features extreme manipulation, murder, execution, backstabbing, front stabbing, questionable morals, questionable mental health, and attempted suicide. Please consider this before deciding to read.**

 **Also, if you are reading this, that means that most of this Fanganronpa has already been written (Unless you are a beta reader or otherwise). I will likely update every week to give any potential readers a chance to let certain scenes sink in and to let people theorize. Do not worry about this story suddenly stopping or going on hiatus, because I will have most of it written.**

 **Finally, please acknowledge that I have only mediocre writing skills. I had an idea, and I will do my best to write out this idea as well as I can, but constructive criticism is very welcome. There are several things I will be doing different from the usual Fanganronpa, especially after the first arc, and some help with making sure I've nailed the concept down would be appreciated. This story will have less focus on an overall plot, and more focus on the situations and characters that come from the framework of the plot.**

 **Thank you for your time!**

* * *

Deep underground, several individuals worked for their country. They worked for what they believed in, making the strangest of contraptions using the wildest of devices, all without question. They were well aware that several of the things they were implementing were dangerous, and a few seemed to be straight-up murderous… But they didn't ask questions.

Why would they? They were just doing their jobs. They had families to come back to. If any one of them had a moral problem with this, they kept their mouth shut out of fear of being fired and forced to never speak of this again, rendering their work meaningless.

And, besides, the rumors going around seemed to suggest that this was all for some greater good. There was a reason for this, they just couldn't figure out what that could possibly be…

Ah well. Soon enough, they were brought up, out of their creation, and they were given hefty payments. Happy and uncaring, the individuals who worked so hard for what others believed in had left.

* * *

Tyson Jin was proud of what he was. He wouldn't call himself an 'Ultimate' of all things, but he knew he was one of the best in what he did. Back then, he didn't have such confidence, but now that he was in the position he was… He felt on top of the world.

Tyson grew up in a household as the awkward middle child who nobody paid much attention to. He had few friends, and liked to keep to himself. He wasn't exceptional at academics, nor was he a star athlete. No, what Tyson was good at… Was games.

Chess, checkers, online war games, Tyson exceeded at them all. He never bothered to make a show of it, so it wasn't anything his family or himself cared much about. The boy just _happened_ to be good at these games, but there seemingly wasn't much else to that…

That changed when he was fourteen. His favorite building in the whole town, the library, was burning down. The fire department was already busy trying to help several other homes that had caught fire, and there were few that were willing to help the poor, old library. Tyson stood and watched for some time, but, a sick feeling lingered in his gut, a feeling that he should jump to action, for if he didn't, something horrible would happen…

And so, he did. He was as commanding as a fourteen year old boy could be, picking out adults who would help him. At first, he was ignored. Who would listen to the screaming teen, after all?...

So Tyson told a lie.

"Someone's in that library! They're going to die if we don't do anything!"

Suddenly, he caught the attention of these adults. Tyson took action. He quickly mapped out safe routes around the library that people could take, allowing them to check inside and see if there was anyone in there. He passed out his old walkie-talkies, getting everyone on the same frequency so he could monitor and call out the fire's growth and behavior.

It was a miracle for Tyson. People were listening to him. He gave out the objectives and shouted out orders, and his troops carried them out. He knew he was running on a high, an unrealistic position of power that would only be granted to him in this moment, this fleeting moment… But somewhere deep inside, there was a part of him that took to this as though it was a necessity. There could have been someone in that library! Tyson was _saving_ their life!

And there was someone in that library. Tyson heard the call out. The boy stood, stunned. There was an old man on the second floor. He needed help. He needed saving.

His lie had become the truth. Tyson was secretly glad it had. He was happy that someone was suffering inside of that burning library. If there was nobody there, then nobody would take him seriously like this ever again.

But with a grin on his face, Tyson knew, now, that this would be the moment in his life that defined him. He could make something of himself! He would become much more than the stupid middle child of a stupid family in a stupid little town. He would become a hero.

So he shouted the orders into his device.

He pointed out landmarks, guided his troops to the correct positions. It was like playing a game of chess against nature itself! The fire made moves to block Tyson's plans, and the boy made moves to counter those harsh obstacles. With each minute, the fire roared brighter, and with each minute, Tyson grew stronger. The first floor was coated in flames, but there were routes to be taken from the outside. The emergency fire escape on the second floor was burned down? Then they would have to make one of their own!

People would come to describe this moment as the strangest miracle the town had ever witnessed. A little kid, shouting orders at adults, getting them to mobilize and fight the fire on their own, all to save an old man's life… And at the end, they succeeded. Tyson put down his device, grasping at his throat, panting as he realized just how out of air he was from all of that yelling…

Tears spilled from his face. Happy, relieved tears. He grinned to himself as he watched the adults take the old man away from the building. Tyson had just saved a life...

And it felt absolutely amazing.

From then on, Tyson had been declared a prodigy in a field unlike any other. Tyson was a tactician! He could command, he could strategize, he could come up with quick and life-saving plans on the fly. He had been taken to military bases across the country to talk with generals and other high-ranking officials who had to deal with Tyson's little miracle every day. The boy grew to respect and hold these people above all others, believing them to be nothing short of life-saving heroes, people who commanded others so that they could save as many lives as possible.

And so, that was the goal Tyson had took, the goal that would shape his life to come. This goal was the goal he applied to every dangerous situation, a goal that would soon be challenged and warped.

"I must save as many lives as possible."

It didn't matter how it happened. The plan that involved the most people surviving was the best plan. No matter what the situation, no matter what the context, when Tyson was playing a game against someone, the goal was always to save as many of his men's lives as possible. Nobody was a mere pawn to him.

This was his goal. This was his motto. And it is because of Tyson's willpower and his determination to stick to this goal that this story exists.

What would you do to save a life?

Are all lives worth saving?

And when it comes down to it… What would you sacrifice to adhere to your morals?

* * *

Some kidnappings are dramatic. Smoke bombs are tossed out, people in dark jackets press dangerous chemicals against the victims' noses, and grand tricks are employed…

Not Tyson's kidnapping. Tyson fell asleep, and, when he woke up, he was simply somewhere else. No awful memory of what could have happened, no sign that he had been injured in any way… Tyson had simply woken up somewhere _different._

There were gray walls surrounding him when he woke up. Blank, gray walls that seemed to have no purpose other than to make this room look _spectacularly_ boring. There was a white dresser in the corner of the room, designed to be rectangular, with no interesting features. The bed he was sleeping on was only moderately comfortable, with a stiff mattress and fluffy blankets.

At first, he thought he was dreaming.

"Right… This is a new one…" He blinked, grimacing slightly as he slowly sat up. "I never knew my dreams could be so, uh… Bland…"

He put his right hand through his short, gray hair, letting out a small yawn… He threw his legs over the side of his bed, noticing that he had less energy than usual. Patting himself down, he winced as he felt a sore spot on his left arm.

"Th-the hell…?" Tyson's voice was raspy, as he barely managed to contain his growing paranoia. He had managed to piece together that this was _probably_ not a dream, given how his arm hurt like hell, and he was feeling particularly awake thanks to that.

Tyson looked down at his left arm, examining the spot that hurt. He saw a red spot with a bandage in the center… What the hell? What was _that?_ Gulping, Tyson took a quick glance around the room, noticing a camera in an upper corner… It had a red light on, and it was looking directly towards him…

Okay, yeah, Tyson should _probably_ leave. He had no idea where he was, why he had some sort of wound on his left arm, or what was going on, so the best option might be to just _get the hell out._ But as he got up, Tyson blinked as he felt something bounce around in his right pocket… Shuffling his hand through his blue jeans, Tyson pulled out some sort of small electronic pad.

Turning it on, the Tactician marveled at the bright screen that shined up at him, showing a menu with a few different tabs…

 **Ultimates**

 _This tab is for keeping track of the players._

 **Map**

 _What do you think, dumbass?_

 **Journal**

 _Important events are logged here._

 **Rules**

 _To be distributed._

Tyson wasn't very pleased with how rude the map tab was being. Furthermore… 'players'? Was Tyson in some kind of reality show game? Huh. He'd always thought about being in one of those; he felt like he could probably win… But, uh, he wasn't sure what kind of reality show took participants against their will…

Shaking his head, the boy decided to stick to his earlier plan: getting the hell out of this room.

There were two doors in this room, and Tyson had just so happened to pick the wrong one; he ended up staring at a white, pristine bathroom. There was a tub/shower hybrid (dubbed 'tubower' in Tyson's mind) where one could use the showerhead and stand in the tub or lay down in the tub and let the faucet take over to take a nice, relaxing bath…

Tyson realized he just spent more time looking at a tub than he did looking at the electronic pad he found in his pants. Right, he should probably leave. This time, going the _other_ way might help.

Deciding to do just that, Tyson scowled at the camera that was following his movements before exiting his room.

* * *

Stepping outside of his room, Tyson found himself in a large, white hallway with a red carpet. There were several chandeliers, also white, hanging above him. Tyson also noticed several small, wooden tables that had things like flowers in vases and candles on them. None of the candles were lit, however… Tyson figured that might be for the best. He'd rather explore this place before he had to worry about it getting burned down…

"Oi! Over here!"

Tyson heard a feminine, bossy voice call out to him. Looking towards the end of the hallway, he noticed a tall girl with red, curly hair and a formal dress shirt, complete with frills. She looked like she had somewhere important to be… But she seemed unarmed, and more importantly, she had a smile on her face, a sign of positivity. And man, did Tyson need some positivity right about now.

"H-Hey!" Tyson waved, walking over to her. "Did you bring me here? I, uh, I don't think I'm supposed to be here…"

"Huh. So you're like the rest of us." The tall girl teased with a grin, crossing her arms. "Don't worry! I didn't do anything to you! I woke up in one of these rooms, just like you."

Tyson paused, putting a finger to his chin. "R-Really…? Then do you have something on your left arm, too?"

"Eh?" The girl blinked, raising an eyebrow at Tyson… But shrugged, deciding to check, pulling down her sleeve. Noticing a red mark and bandage there, her eyes widened. "... That's… New."

"I doubt you'd have that if you weren't in the same boat I am…" Tyson quipped with a small smile. "So, I can trust you, right? I'm Tyson Jin."

The girl shrugged, a little impressed. "I'm Rose Major! Glad to see there's someone else with a brain around here." She smiled, crossing her arms. "The other two guys weren't as cooperative. And there's sixteen more to go…"

"Sixteen?" Tyson shook his head. "Last two guys?... Can you catch me up here, Rose?"

Tyson had managed to stay calm with a friendly face around, at least, but he wasn't doing all that hot. He just had to focus on what was doing on here; if he could focus on that, his mind would be too occupied to freak out about the wound on his arm…

Rose nodded. "Right, right, sorry." She put a fist to her chin, thinking to herself, letting her eyes wander as she spoke. "So, I woke up first, I think. I got out of my room and decided to wait here. Two other guys woke up… One of them was in a wheelchair, so me and the other guy had to get him downstairs, but, we kept almost dropping him because-"

"Hold up." Tyson blinked, trying to stop Rose before she rambled on. "What were their names?"

"Oh, right." Rose put her hands on her hips, frowning. "The guy in the wheelchair was… Julian Grendel, I think. And the guy who wouldn't stop _banging the walls_ was Terry Holds."

"Banging the walls?" Tyson repeated, rubbing the back of his head. What the hell…?

"Yeah, he kept hitting his wrist against the wall. Not violently or anything, just… Like he was forcing something back into place." Rose put a finger to her lips, closing her eyes to think. "I think he has some sort of serious nervous tick…"

"Can't blame him for being nervous…" Tyson adjusted his shirt, feeling awkward. "I'd be freaking out right now if I was alone…"

Rose grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "And I'm probably a couple hours away from a mental breakdown, myself~"

"Wait, what-"

"So! You should go downstairs and meet them yourself." Rose smiled, moving her fingers along the frills of her shirt, pretending nothing was wrong. "I'll wait here for anymore sleepyheads."

"... Right…" Tyson coughed, more than a bit nervous. She was… Probably half-kidding, right? He imagined there was some truth to the 'mental breakdown' thing, given the situation they were in, but even still… Well, he would just have to keep an eye on her.

 _Rose Major… Julian Grendel… Terry Holds…_

 _Ah, wait, how did she know there were sixteen others?_

Before leaving Rose, Tyson looked back, noticing numerous doors in the hallway…

 _One two three four…. Ah. Twenty. She just made the obvious conclusion._

Shrugging to himself, Tyson gave Rose a small wave as he left. The girl smiled, nodding silently to him.

* * *

After walking down the stairs, Tyson found himself in a rather large foyer. It didn't have much of anything fancy, besides more red carpet, and a rather large chandelier on the ceiling. Otherwise, there were some paintings of generic-looking rivers, hills, and mountains on the walls…

Oh, and the submachine gun above the double-door exit was pretty generic, too.

Tyson had decided to stay as far away from the submachine gun as possible, staring at it as he walked across the foyer. However, he stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard a whistle come from one of the corners of the room. He blinked, glancing over to a young man in a wheelchair.

Ah, that must be Julian Grendel...

Pushing up his glasses, this new person smirked. "Frightened by the hideous monster in this room, I see...Truthfully, it has stricken my heart as well. That is why I am hiding behind the pillar."

Oh. That made sense. Still, Tyson wasn't sure about this guy. The way he talked sounded creepy as hell… "Uh, right... " The Tactician darted to a pillar across from his new ally, hiding behind it to keep out of the sight of that gun. "Good idea. But wasn't there another guy down here…?"

"Ah, that stranger in a strange land…?" Julian brushed his blonde hair with a comb, shrugging softly. "He left to explore the hallway just through those doors."

The young man pointed to another set of double doors between him and Tyson. They lacked a submachine gun, thankfully.

"Ah…" Tyson coughed, putting a hand on the pillar he was hiding behind, as though to reassure himself that he still had some line of defense against that gun on the other side of the room. "You didn't follow him…?"

Julian smirked, shrugging softly. "I opted to explore this foyer. I've kept to the pillars for… Obvious reasons…"

Tyson nodded. That made sense. "Have you found anything?"

"I've found the most uninspired paintings I've ever witnessed in my life." Julian quipped with a small grin. "Nothing is behind them, by the way. I know, I know, I was disappointed too…" He ended that with a bit of a whine, sighing to himself, resting the side of his head against his hand.

Tyson coughed. "Well, um, if you're done around here, we could check out the hallway…?"

"Why would I follow a man whose name I do not know?" Julian inquired, smirking. "Ah, no, wait, I have it… You look like a _Dante_ to me..."

The Tactician blinked, shaking his head. "Uh, no, my name's Tyson. Tyson Jin."

"Damn!" Julian banged his fist against the pillar next to him, annoyed. Tyson jumped a little bit at this, but kept himself still as the boy continued. "You look _nothing_ like a 'Tyson', though… Ah, no matter. Someone's name _has_ to be 'Dante'..."

"Do you like that name?" Tyson guessed, a nervous smile on his face. Right, this guy didn't seem terribly stable… Maybe he was better off leaving Julian in the foyer…

"I would name my son 'Dante' if I could. Or 'Beowulf'. Imagine being named _Beowulf Grendel._ Ha! You'd be a walking reference!" Julian snickered, pleased with himself.

Tyson was starting to feel sorry for any of this guy's future children. "So you like stories?"

"Bah, 'stories'. No, my dear friend, 'stories' are what liars tell to get away with their crimes." The wheelchair-bound man pushed his glasses up, smirking. "I prefer to call them _legends_ , for the word 'legendary' does much more credit to the greatness of stories like _Dante's Inferno_ and _Beowulf_ …"

"... You just called them 'stories'." Tyson pointed out with a frown.

"Wha- dammit!" Julian crossed his arms, growling. "A single word slips through my lips, and my entire argument falls apart! Ahaha… How fragile… How so, so fragile…"

"Right…" Tyson shook his head. "So, hallway?"

"Huh?" Julian frowned. "Ah, right. Get the door for me, would you?"

Tyson nodded, moving quickly to the doors, opening one of them and keeping it open, watching as Julian wheeled right in; Tyson rushed in right after that, not exactly excited to keep inside the room with a gun…

* * *

Julian and Tyson found themselves in a U-shaped hallway. They had entered the bottom line of the 'U', and found that they could go left, right, or straight ahead into another set of double doors.

"So, uh, Rose and Terry had to help get you down the stairs, right?" Tyson wondered aloud, glancing around the hallway. "That's… Strange, right?"

"Tyson, I'm in a wheelchair." Julian deadpanned. "Stairs are my mortal foe."

"Oh, no! Not that part." Tyson shook his head, biting his lip. Damn, he could have worded that better… "I mean, since we were all supposedly kidnapped, you'd think that whoever did this would, uh, look into who they were kidnapping, right…?"

Julian considered this. "Ah… So you're saying they might have tried to accommodate for me?"

Tyson shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, I'd think so. I mean, they probably had to carry you and the wheelchair up the stairs in the first place, so…"

"Strange." Julian clicked his tongue. "Well, it's possible they looked into me about a week ago and saw me walking around… This whole 'wheelchair' thing is recent."

"Recent?" Tyson blinked, surprised. He looked down to Julian's legs, noticing casts. Oh, right. Duh. "So you were involved in an accident?"

"An old lady hit me with her car. Would you believe it?" The boy chuckled softly. "I just _had_ to get injured right before getting stuck in the most generic manor ever… Fun."

Tyson shut his eyes for a moment, crossing his arms as he thought to himself. "... So you haven't recovered at all, right?"

Julian nodded. "Still can't walk. So it's unlikely we were knocked out for a long period of time, if that's what you were thinking about…" He smirked, pushing up his glasses. "Unless, perhaps… We were asleep for years and years… And our kidnapper simply broke my legs before waking us up!"

"... Yeah, that doesn't sound likely." Tyson quipped, rubbing the back of his head.

"Exactly. So why don't we stop thinking about impossible things?" The blonde-haired boy smiled. "Let us focus on exploration. Where should we go?"

Tyson considered this for a moment. "Well, the other doors look inviting…"

"Ah, nevermind." Julian shook his head, pointing behind Tyson. "There's Terry."

Tyson blinked, turning around to see a brown-haired boy walking down the hall, waving to the two. He had a gray shirt and tan pants on, carrying a small flash camera in his hands. "Hey! What's up?"

He knocked his right hand against the wall next to him as he walked, casually moving on as though nothing had just happened. He flicked his wrist, stretching as he walked along to the other two boys.

"Still got that tick?" Julian sighed. "How is your wrist not broken…?"

Terry shrugged, a nervous bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. "S-Sorry, can't help it… It's no big deal, though! Just a thing I do."

"You nearly dropped me. Twice." Julian took a comb through his hair, somewhat annoyed. "Have you considered seeing anyone about that? A therapist, maybe?"

Terry rolled his eyes. "I don't need a therapist. Don't make a big deal out of it; I won't carry you anymore, okay?"

He hit his hand against the wall again, flicking it once more as he shrugged, moving on. "So, who's the new guy?"

"I'm Tyson Jin." Tyson introduced himself with a small smile. "You're Terry Holds, right? Rose told me about you and Julian."

"Ah, did she yell at you, too?" Terry grinned, hitting his fists together. "She's a scary one!"

Tyson blinked, rubbing his cheek nervously. "Uh… No? But she was kind of surprised by…" His eyes widened. "Oh, shit, right! Guys, check your right arms."

"What?" Terry rose an eyebrow. "What are you-"

"Ah, so that's why you had that mark on your right arm…" Julian let out a small 'tsk' as he pulled his sleeve down. "Damn. I've got it, too."

Terry, eyes widening, pulled down the sleeve of his shirt. "Ah, hell! Seriously!?"

"Relax, it's probably just a mark from where our kidnapper drugged us." Julian shrugged.

"And _that_ is supposed to make me relax?" Terry rolled his eyes. "Some dude injected who-knows-what into us, man! That's freaky!"

"Not that I don't agree…" Tyson crossed his arms, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there's no use panicking over it now. Our goal should be finding an exit."

"Well, the only exit we've found is guarded by a big gun." Terry grimaced. "So… Yeah, I ain't going near that."

"Someone will have to." Julian frowned. "If we don't find another exit, that is…" He grinned, crossing his arms. "But who would be brave enough to traverse such deadly waters…? We'll need a real Odysseus for this…"

"Does he _always_ make historical fiction references…?" Tyson looked to Terry with his brow raised.

"That's his thing." Terry shrugged. "Seriously, he made, like, three, when we were carrying him down the stairs. All just as forced as that one."

"It's _endearing!_ " Julian glared. "... B-But… I suppose I should stop. I don't want anyone to think I'm creepy."

"Already crossed that bridge, dude." Terry smirked, lightly hitting his wrist against the wall again.

"Says the man who won't be able to use his right hand in a couple of years." The wheelchair-bound boy grumbled. "Now then, did you find anything useful?"

"Yeah! I ran around and found a lot!" Terry smiled with some pride, placing a hand on his side. "There's a dining hall to the right, where I just came from. There's a kitchen in there, too. There's a locked door at the end of the hallway, though…"

"Any exits?" Tyson bit his lip.

Terry shrugged. "Sorry, nothing. But I found lots of food! We could have a big feast or something!"

"Nobody cares about having a feast." Julian rolled his eyes. "We need to find a way out. Have you checked anything else?"

"There's a big, uh, dancing room right there." Terry pointed to the set of double doors that Tyson and Julian hadn't entered through yet. "It's all white and stuff, though, just like the rest of this place. Someone needs to start painting this dump, ASAP!" He grinned, crossing his arms.

Tyson shook his head. "So there's a ballroom, too... Are we in a real manor, after all…?"

"I'm doubtful." Julian threw in his thoughts, tapping the arm of his wheelchair with his fingers. "This place is horribly generic. I refuse to believe that any home designer with any pride whatsoever would allow this mess to be created. This could be something else entirely."

"Like what?" Terry put his hands in his pockets. "Is it a bunker or something?"

Julian laughed. "A bunker? No, no, a bunker wouldn't have chandeliers, or paintings, or… Any of this nonsense." The boy shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know where we could be… But I refuse to believe it's someone's manor. Not unless we find the corpse of some poor interior designer."

At the mention of 'corpse', Tyson shivered. "Uh, right… Well, Terry didn't check the left, right? We should see what's there."

"Ah, right. That's more important than my rambling." Julian seemed annoyed at himself, shaking his head. "Apologies. So, let us explore!"

The three boys traveled towards the left of the 'U' hallway, noticing a few more doors. A door at the end of the hallway, which was sadly locked, a door leading into a storage room, and a door leading into a lounge.

"I'll check out the storage room." Tyson volunteered with a small smile. "You two can check out the lounge."

Terry nodded. "Fair enough! 'Cause, y'know, Julian and I get along totally well." He smirked, crossing his arms.

"We can make amends while we stare at a tiger rug or something." Julian sighed. "Best of luck, Tyson!"

They went their separate ways.

* * *

Tyson had glanced inside of this storage room before, while he, Julian, and Terry checked out the hallway. But he didn't really realize how big it was until he had stepped inside. It looked like it could fit many more boxes of things than it did currently, and had plenty of shelves filled with tools and-

"Name. Now." A deep voice demanded.

Tyson froze. He felt something metallic press up the back of his neck, causing chills to go down his spine… His eyes widened, his breath quickened, and he found himself fearful for his life in mere seconds.

What a fun start to his day!

"U-Uh… Tyson Jin…!" He grimaced. "P-Please, put, put down the gun, okay…? I'm not here to hurt you…"

"Oh, this isn't a gun." The voice lightened up a little. "It's a bat."

Oh. That explained why the metallic thing felt pretty sizable… Tyson had just assumed it was a shotgun or something. "R-Right, well… Can you put down the _bat_?"

"..." There was a sigh, and Tyson no longer felt the metal. "Right, fine. But if you're the reason I'm here…!"

"Relax! I don't know who you-" Tyson spun around, eyes widening. "... U-Uh…"

The man Tyson was facing was wearing a gas mask. Furthermore, he had black robes on, black gloves, and black boots. He had the hood of his cloak thrown up, over his head, and he overall looked like the scariest thing Tyson had ever seen in his goddamn life.

He might have looked even more intimidating if it weren't for the fact that the metallic baseball bat he was holding was pink and covered in sparkles.

"... What's with your… Everything?" Tyson rose an eyebrow, unable to put his complete confusion into words.

"I just found the bat in here." The man shrugged. "And I'm wearing the mask and everything out of necessity. I'm not pretty to look at."

"You can't be _that_ bad." Tyson frowned, shaking his head. The man shrugged.

"Fine then." The man put a hand to his mask, taking it off for a moment…

…

He put it back on. "So, what do you think? Can I win a beauty pageant?"

Tyson gulped, eyes wide. "... What _happened_ to you?"

"I've been through some shit. Obviously." The man shrugged. "You learn to roll with it, though. Put on some black robes, a gas mask, call yourself 'The Deserter', and people start knowing how to treat you."

Tyson seemed bewildered, taking a step back. "... Uh… That's… Kind of…"

"Edgy?" The Deserter wondered. "Yeah, I know. Sounds like something out of an emo's diary. But I've come to accept that my life is just 'edgy'."

Tyson shrugged. "Uh… Fair enough. So, did you wake up here, too…?"

The Deserter nodded. "Yep. I'd reckon I was the first one up, too." He examined his pink, sparkly bat, giving himself something to do while he talked. "I went inside the foyer, saw the gun… Panicked, ran away… And hid in here."

That meant that Rose would be waiting for one less person. Tyson figured he should report back to her at some point so that she didn't stand up there forever. "You should probably come with me. I can introduce you to the others." The Tactician offered with a nervous smile. "But you might, uh… Well, I'm not sure if the bat makes you more intimidating, or… Less so…"

"I'll keep the bat." The Deserter shrugged. "I can't imagine anyone taking someone who looks like me carrying a pretty pink baseball bat seriously. It'll be better that way."

Tyson smiled. "Alright. Let's go."

With a Deserter at his heels, Tyson exited the storage room.

* * *

"So, did you find anything else in the storage room?" Tyson wondered as he and the edgy man entered the hallway.

"I found a toolbox, alongside all sorts of miscellaneous supplies... " The Deserter quipped. "... Heh. I just found a use for the word 'miscellaneous'... Cool."

The Tactician decided _not_ to question why that was some sort of accomplishment to him. "Right… Nothing else? No way out?"

"Eh…" He looked down at his pretty pink bat, thinking to himself. "Well, there was this trapdoor, but it was locked. I decided to cover it with some boxes, just in case something comes crawling out of there."

"But it's already locked…" Tyson rose an eyebrow, confused. "And what would come crawling out…?"

"Monsters." The Deserter shrugged. "Zombies. Our kidnapper. Take your pick."

The two heard a door open, and they looked to the double doors leading to the foyer. Out of the doors came a young woman with flowing brown hair and sunglasses, who glanced around for a moment before looking towards Tyson and the Deserter.

…

The Deserter waved awkwardly.

"I'm not sure whether I want to be in _here_ , or the room with the submachine gun." The girl lowered her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow at the two.

"Can't really blame you." The Deserter admitted.

"I'd rather be in the submachine gun room, myself." Tyson deadpanned.

"What's going on here?" She sighed, fidgeting with a pistol in her hands. The two boys ahead of her glanced between each other, shocked by the fact that one of them had a fucking _gun._ The girl took notice of this and sighed. "Relax, boys, it's a BB gun."

To prove her point, she pointed behind her and fired, breaking a vase, but hardly causing much of a sound beyond that. "See?"

"That vase didn't deserve that…" The Deserter shook his head, seemingly mourning the loss of one of the only decent-looking things in the manor.

"Eh… I didn't mean to hit that." The girl coughed, shaking her head. "Ah, whatever. So, who are you?"

"Tyson Jin." The boy introduced himself. "And my friend here is, uh… 'The Deserter'."

"'Sup." The Deserter nodded, putting the pretty pink baseball bat over his shoulder.

"Urge to kill myself rising..." The girl quipped, shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Right. I'm Lola Elsworth. I shoot things."

"We can see that." Tyson took a glance at the shards on the floor before looking to Lola. "... So, you woke up here, too?"

"Yep." Lola nodded, pushing up her sunglasses. "Don't remember how I got here, though. I fell asleep in my bed and woke up here."

"Same for me. But it was a park bench instead." The Deserter adjusted his gas mask. "... Say, what's with the sunglasses, lady? We're indoors."

"Have you seen how bright this place is?" Lola scoffed. "I'll keep my glasses on, thank you very much…" She put her gun to her side, placing her free hand on her hip.

Tyson frowned, counting in his head… So, he had met Rose, Julian, Terry, Lola, and the Deserter. That meant that six out of the supposed twenty people had woken up… There was still a lot to go…

"Hey, Mr. Thinker." Lola frowned, looking to Tyson. "Find any exits?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, no, not yet." Tyson snapped out of it, shaking his head, crossing his arms. "We've checked all the rooms we have access to… But some of the doors are locked…"

"So our only exit has a giant fucking gun attached to it." The Deserter sighed. "Great. Juuuust great…"

The three heard more doors opening; checking around the corner, they noticed Julian and Terry coming out of the lounge.

"Oi, Tyson! We found jack shit!" Terry sighed. "What about you?... Uh…" He and Julian stopped, seeing that Tyson was now flanked by an edgelord with a little girl's baseball bat and a woman with a gun.

"Those are some interesting bodyguards you've got there, Tyson." Julian deadpanned. "Very threatening."

"I'm not anyone's bodyguard." The Deserter scoffed. "Got it?"

"Woah, dude, point little Sally's first baseball bat somewhere else." Terry rolled his eyes, smacking his wrist against the wall. "What's with the get-up?"

"He's been through some stuff." Tyson explained, not wanting the Deserter to remove his gas mask again. "Trust me."

"And her?" Julian looked to Lola, who shrugged.

"BB gun." She frowned. "I can prove it-"

"NO!" Tyson and the Deserter both jumped at once, causing Lola to cough, feeling embarrassed.

"You make one bad shot when you can't even _see_ …" She adjusted her sunglasses, flipping her hair, a little annoyed.

"Right…" Julian shook his head. "Well, we didn't find any exits. Just a bunch of weapons."

"There was a rifle, but no bullets!" Terry explained with a smile. "But there was also a bunch of daggers, knives, pocket knives…"

"Shouldn't you arm yourselves?" Lola pushed down her sunglasses, raising her brow. "We're not exactly in a safe place…"

"Do I look like I can fight right now?" Julian snarked. "I can't even climb a flight of fucking stairs."

"I don't know how to use a knife… Or any weapon, really…" Terry shrugged softly.

"Well, aren't we the perfect exploration party?" The Deserter mocked. "We've got a pink bat and a BB gun. I'm sure we'll take down any attackers with this shit, easy."

"I'll take a dagger if you guys want." Tyson shrugged. "I actually learned how to use one a year ago while I was at this military base out west…"

"Military base?" Terry parroted. "Damn, dude! What do you do in your free time?"

"Uh… Long story…" Tyson chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he realized everyone was staring at him. "... I'll go grab that dagger now…"

"I'll come with." Lola nodded. "I want to see this place."

"I'll come too! I don't wanna be left alone with Julian and the other guy!" Terry grinned, following.

"Wait!... Ah, shit." Julian grumbled as he realized he was left alone with the Deserter. "... So, what do you do for fun, my new friend?" He scoffed, looking towards the man in the gas mask.

"I watch cartoons." The Deserter nodded. "Helps lift my mood up a little, you know?... Hey, do you watch Steven Galaxy?"

Julian wanted to die.

* * *

Tyson, Terry, and Lola entered the lounge. There was a comfy feeling to this place, even if it, too, was mostly white, with white and gray furniture, a polar bear rug, and several white daggers lining the walls. The rifle above the gray fireplace was black, so, there was that.

"They even painted the steel white." Lola examined one of the daggers. "Why go through all this trouble?"

"Maybe we've all gone colorblind?" Terry suggested with a small shrug. "Maybe that's a side effect of whatever we were drugged with…"

"What color are my clothes?" Lola looked too Terry with a frown. The boy looked to her, blinking, thinking to himself.

"... Ooooh… Good point!" Terry grinned. "Right, so, we're not colorblind. That's one option gone…"

"I don't think it was ever much of an 'option'." Lola sighed, shaking her head.

Tyson, meanwhile, was looking through the daggers, thinking to himself…

This situation was beyond strange. While the people he had met were nice enough, there were soon to be fourteen more joining their ranks… It all felt like too much…

Usually, on a chessboard, Tyson had sixteen pieces to move around. He could keep track of sixteen people. But if there were truly nineteen others, Tyson wasn't sure if he could keep track of everyone here.

That scared him.

They were kidnapped and in some unknown place… He was having trouble analyzing the five people he'd already met, and he had to get used to fourteen more…

Tyson touched the tip of one of the daggers carefully, thinking about the people he'd met so far. Rose seemed nice enough, if a bit bossy. Julian was strange and snarky, but competent. Terry was definitely odd, but he seemed to take this situation well, though perhaps at the cost of his wrist. The Deserter was a wildcard for sure, but his appearance aside, he seemed like he could be useful. Lola was serious and smart, something Tyson respected, but it might be harder to read her with those sunglasses on…

Yes, while Tyson had managed to act 'natural' so far, he was still panicking somewhat on the inside. The Tactician wasn't sure how he would be able to help if things started going awry… Surely not every single one of these twenty people would be willing to cooperate, after all, and there were only so many people Tyson might be able to control…

He had given it enough thought. He picked out a dagger, turning to Lola and Terry. "I'm good to go."

Terry grinned, hitting his fists together. "Hell yeah! You look battle-ready, bud!... I'll keep behind you."

"How manly." Lola lowered her sunglasses, rolling her eyes. "Come on. Let's move."

The three left the lounge behind, moving back to the hallway.

* * *

"So Tyson has obtained the fabled 'white dagger'..." Julian pushed up his glasses, putting on a grand narrator's voice. "But what mighty foes shall he slay with it? Might he defeat the grand 'Kidnapper who makes the wheelchair guy go down stairs'? Well, dear listeners, _I_ certainly hope so…"

"Gotta give it to the guy, he has a voice for atmosphere." Terry shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Right, well, I'm going to check out the rest of the rooms." Lola rolled her eyes. "I'd like to look over everything myself."

"Me too." Julian smirked. "I don't exactly trust Terry. He might have missed something."

"Hey!" Terry banged his wrist against the wall. "I'm totally trustworthy!"

"Case in point." Julian tapped his fingers against the arm of his wheelchair. "Which of you will join us?"

"I'd like to go back to the foyer, actually." Tyson admitted. "I've gotta get upstairs and tell Rose about the Deserter. I'd also like to check on whoever else wakes up…"

"Good point." Lola fidgeted with her gun, thinking to herself. "... Alright. Julian, bangs-his-fist-a-lot and I will go check the rooms. Deserter, you go with Tyson."

"What? Why me?" The Deserter flinched. "I do _not_ want to go back into the room with the gun."

"..." Lola lowered her sunglasses, glaring at him. "..."

"... Y'know what? Fine, I'm not in the mood to argue." The Deserter sighed, looking to Tyson. "But you're leading. I'll tail you."

"Why am I the leader?" Tyson felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. "You're the one who's, quote, "Been through a lot of shit"..."

"Yeah, but I _ran away_ from that 'lot of shit'." The Deserter shrugged. "Hence the name? Get it?"

"Oh… Actually, that makes a lot more sense now that I think about it…" Tyson bit his thumb. "Right, let's move."

"Right behind ya. The Deserter has joined your party."

Tyson and the Deserter bid Lola, Terry, and Julian farewell, entering the foyer.

* * *

There, they had encountered Rose and another person. This guy seemed kind of frightened… He had dark skin and short, black hair. He was also wearing a green shirt, blue shorts, and… Was that a halberd strapped to his back…?

"Holy shit! That guy's got a motherfucking halberd!" The Deserter shouted. "Damn! It looks even more badass in person!"

"P-Pay no attention… T-to the man with the h-halberd…" The boy gulped. "I'm… A normal guy, l-like all of you.."

"You're really not convincing anybody there…" Rose sighed, putting her hands behind her head. "... And… Is that a man in a gas mask and robes, with… A pink, sparkly bat?"

She stared at the Deserter, perturbed. The Deserter merely shrugged in response.

"His name's, uh… 'The Deserter'..." Tyson shrugged softly. "Hey, so, Rose, why aren't you upstairs waiting on people…?"

"I got kicked out of my position by some snooty siblings." Rose puffed, annoyed. "They're acting like they're in charge… Hmph! Pompous jerks…"

"Th-they seemed nice enough…" The boy with the heavy, lethal weapon murmured. "N-Not bad people, really, just… A-Afraid. S-So they want control…"

"And I want control, too." Rose crossed her arms. "But I've lost that, so… I'm back down here."

"So who are you two?" The Deserter shook his head, adjusting his gas mask. "Tyson already introduced me. I want introductions back. I wanna get introduced. Introductions."

"A-Are you just saying 'introduction' a-a lot so you can, um… Sound smart…?" Halberd boy wondered. "I-It's okay… I don't have a very big vocabulary, e-either, so… You don't need to feel bad…"

"..." The Deserter stared at the kid with the halberd. "... Yo, why's the kid with the giant, lethal weapon the nicest one here?"

"Ignoring that." Rose pouted, crossing her arms. "I'm Rose Major!" She put a finger to her lips, thinking for a moment. "And this guy is… I… Actually didn't get his name."

"What's your name?" Tyson smiled to the boy with the halberd. The boy flinched in response, gulping, but nodded to himself, speaking…

"Um, I-I'm Harold…" He smiled nervously. "I, uh… I k-kill people."

The room went silent.

"Y-Yeah, uh, I'm not very good at, um… P-Parties…" He tugged at the collar of his neck. "I'm an executioner… N-Novoslovic…"

"..." Rose blinked, turning to the Deserter and Tyson, a blank look on her face. "Right, uh… I don't know about you two, but I'm hanging on _very_ tightly to my last strand of sanity here, so… Why don't we go… _Anywhere_ else…?"

Harold pressed his index fingers together. "..." He looked like a hurt puppy, glancing down, denied attention from his newfound friends.

"I'll, uh, I'll stay here and talk to him." Tyson smiled. "You can go on ahead."

"Yeah, I'm following Rose." The Deserter shrugged. "No offense Harold, you're cool and all, but… There's a submachine gun in this room, and I'm pretty sure it's pointed at me."

"Let's just get out of here…" Rose sighed. "Good luck, Tyson."

Rose and the Deserter jetted out of the room, leaving Tyson and Harold alone.

"... So, uh… Was what you just said true?" Tyson rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, you don't look, um… Old enough, to be able to… Execute people."

"Oh, I-I'm d-definitely fine with it…" Harold nodded gently, holding his halberd upright. "I, uh… I-I definitely execute people, u-um, pretty regularly. I-I was almost at a hundred executions, s-so, uh, the guys w-were gonna get me a cake a-and throw a party…"

Tyson wasn't believing what he was hearing. "R-Right… Right, uh… And do you feel okay, Harold…?"

"Oh, I-I don't feel. O-Often." Harold shrugged, spinning his halberd effortlessly. It was at this moment that Tyson realized that the small boy was actually pretty muscular… "I, um… I-I don't really put m-much value on human life, o-or anything. A-And I don't feel emotions, o-often, so… I think that makes me, uh… A sociopath? P-Psychopath? I-I never really cared to label myself, i-it feels silly…"

Tyson rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing the complete contradiction of humanity that was Harold Slayne. Was this guy real? Was this real life? "... You're… Kind of hard to understand, Harold."

"O-Oh, is it the stuttering? S-Sorry, it's, um, a-a nervous tick." Harold gulped, frowning, tying his halberd behind his back. "I-I feel like it turns p-people off and… D-Doesn't help me m-make friends…"

"No, Harold, I think it's the whole 'killing' thing that might be the problem." Tyson coughed, nervous. "R-Really, man."

"Huh? B-But… All the people I kill a-are really bad…" Harold went back to spinning his halberd around, even going as far as to throw it up into the air and catch it. He was sweating nervously. "R-Really, really bad. C-Child abusers, m-murderers, rapists… I-I even killed a-a drug lord once! He was really m-mean about it…"

Tyson shook his head. Alright, this was getting him nowhere. "Alright, Harold. I believe you."

"Y-You do!?" Harold seemed surprised, taking a step back, letting his halberd fall and hit the ground. "N-Nobody ever… B-Believes me! Thank you!"

"Right, uh… N-No problem, Harold.." Tyson smiled gently. "But, you gotta be careful with that halberd and stuff, okay? People might get scared of you."

"S-Scared of me? Why? I-I'm not scary…" Harold said, spinning his giant halberd effortlessly.

"Trust me, Harold." Tyson deadpanned. "You're a little scary."

Harold sighed, tying his halberd to his back once more. "O-Okay, okay… I-I'll stop the halberd spinning…"

"Good boy." Tyson smiled. "Now, why don't we go upstairs? I wanna meet those two 'pompous people' Rose was talking about…"

"O-Oh, okay!" Harold smiled. "Oh boy, g-going with someone to somewhere..! I-I feel.. Befriended!"

Tyson silently hoped he wasn't going to end up with a halberd in his back today.

The two of them went up the stairs.

* * *

Reaching the top of the stairs, Harold and Tyson spotted the two people Rose was talking about. A blonde-haired woman with curly locks and a red-haired man with a confident smile. They were both wearing fancy clothing with frills, seemingly Victorian…

"Ah! Hello there!" The man grinned, waving to Harold and Tyson. "It's a pleasure to see friendly faces here!"

"..." The woman wrote something down on a notebook, smiling to herself. She took a moment to review it, nodded to herself, ripped out the page, and gave it to the man on her right.

The man took the paper from the woman on his left, smiling as he read it, nodding to himself. "Good morning, afternoon, or evening! We are the York siblings! While we are undergoing this strange situation, we hope to bring you peace of mind by offering our services as leaders!"

"Leaders?" Tyson echoed, crossing his arms. "Uh… Sorry to say, but, I'm not sure how seriously I can take the two of you in those outfits…"

"Y-Yeah, you look k-kind of stupid." Harold stated with a blank expression, biting his thumb.

The man gasped, looking offended. "We woke up in this! I'll have you know we didn't have a choice in the matter! I would have _much_ rather had something with more pizazz!"

"..." The woman seemed to be scowling, writing something hastily before ripping the page off with much more vigor than she did before, shoving it in the man's hands. The man blinked, pulling up the paper and reading.

"... Ah, right! But my sister's dress is fine just the way it is!" He pointed. "Apologize!"

"R-Right, right, sorry…" Tyson rubbed the back of his head, grimacing. Geez… These two would be a handful. And there were eleven more people coming… Tyson felt more and more ensnared…

"Anyway!" The man smiled, glad that was over with. "My name is Arthur York! And this is my sister, Georgia York!"

"... Hello." Georgia curtsied before getting back to her writing.

"We will do our best for you, and all others who wake up here!" Arthur pointed with vigor. "My sister and I are experts at leading people! We will renew your morale, your vigor, and your SPIRIT!"

"Th-those three words… A-All mean the same thing…." Harold frowned, crossing his arms and tipping his head. "Do you e-even know what you're talking about…?"

"Of course I do!" Arthur shouted. "I'm just… Nervous! Who wouldn't be!?"

Georgia rolled her eyes, writing something on her notebook before tearing out the page, smirking as she gave it to her brother.

Arthur took the page, reading it. "YES! And Arthur is an IDIOT!" He pointed! "... Wait a second…"

Georgia had burst into giggles, causing Arthur to snap and yell at her. Tyson and Harold looked between each other, both sharing the same, unsure expression. Were these two really supposed to lead them…?

"A-Anyway!" Arthur adjusted the collar of his outfit. "Please, go back downstairs and explore! We will wait to greet anyone else who wakes up!"

"I guess w-we can trust them…" Harold bit his thumb. "Wh-what do you think, T-Tyson..?"

Tyson put his hands behind his head, thinking to himself…

Well, while he wanted to have more control than anyone… Trying to overthrow this 'dynamic duo' would be tough. He could have Harold threaten them, but that would damage Harold's reputation, and he wanted to help the executioner get some kind of social foothold around here... So he decided to back off for now.

Tyson withdrew his bishop.

"Of course. We leave it up to you." Tyson smiled.

"We won't let you down!" Arthur smiled back, crossing his arms.

Tyson and Harold went back downstairs, leaving the York siblings to do their thing.

* * *

Tyson and Harold had arrived in the foyer, seeing Lola there.

"Hey." Lola raised her hand in greeting. "Didn't find an exit. We're stuck here for real."

"O-Oh… That's bad…" Harold frowned, clasping his hands together. "Th-there's really nothing…?"

"No doors, no windows, no big air vents, no dream, no hope." Lola lowered her sunglasses. "Whoever put us in here is _not_ gonna let us out that easy."

"Mm…." Harold bit his lip. "W-Well… At least we have e-each other…?"

"That's… Kind of the spirit, Harold!" Tyson decided to take whatever small victories he could get with this psychopath.

Lola stared at the two for a moment, not believing the stupidity before her, but soon shrugged it off, pushing her sunglasses back up. "Right, well… We did find one strange thing. There was this teddy bear in the ballroom, and it's pretty heavy…"

"A heavy teddy bear?" Tyson echoed. Well, that wouldn't be the strangest thing Tyson had seen today… "Let's go see it."

"I-I can cut it open, um… If you want…" Harold gripped onto his halberd, keeping it close to his chest. "A-And we can… S-See why it's, um, s-so heavy…"

Lola didn't respond for a couple of seconds, taking her time, processing that offer. "... Tyson, who is this guy?" She turned to Tyson, officially unable to put up with anymore of this.

"This is Harold. He's a good guy." Tyson smiled awkwardly. "He's… Also an executioner."

Harold waved awkwardly.

Lola stood silent. "..." She coughed. "..." She scratched the side of her neck. "..." She sighed. "Right. You know what? I'm not gonna even fucking bother. Let's go."

Harold, Lola, and Tyson made their way to the ballroom.

* * *

The trio arrived in a white ballroom. There were two large, white, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, lighting the expanse of the ballroom. There were also several tables and chairs, though the tables were dressed with white cloths and the chairs were gray.

This whole 'monochromatic theme' was starting to get on Tyson's nerves. He wanted to see something natural and colorful again… This whole place was like some sort of illusion.

In the center of the ballroom were Terry, Rose, Julian, and the Deserter. They had all crowded around this monochromatic teddy bear laying on the floor. It looked pretty creepy, with a weird, red left eye…

"Hey!" Terry waved to the three with a small smile. "Uh, find anyone who can help us disassemble this or whatever?"

"I found someone who could cut it open. But if it's a bomb... " Lola contemplated this. "Maybe we should wait. See if anyone who wakes up is more experienced."

"This bear looks like just the kind of mascot I'd want for a horrific fairy tale." Julian clicked his tongue. "It must have something to do with what's going on here."

The Deserter waved around his pretty pink bat, shrugging. "Maybe, maybe not. I just wish _something_ started letting us know what's the jig around here. I kind of expected we'd be playing some bullshit life-or-death games, like Clue."

"Clue?" Tyson echoed, confused.

The Deserter shrugged. "Hey, Clue sucks. It's nothin' but luck."

Rose rolled her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. " _Anyway._ I'd rather we think about the exit… Shouldn't we be considering the doors at the front?"

"The ones with the submachine gun?" Julian reminded. "Yeah, I'm not very willing to go near that…"

"Someone has to." Rose pointed out. "It's possible that the gun can't point straight down, or something. We might be able to make it inside the door."

"Eh, even if you did, the door's locked." Lola shrugged nonchalantly. "I checked it myself."

Terry gasped, impressed. "You went near that death trap!?"

"Guns are kind of my specialty." Lola smirked, a little proud of herself. "That gun might be big, but it isn't the most efficient at picking out targets quickly… It's meant mostly for intimidation. Y'know, to make sure we don't try anything funny."

"Like what? What _can_ we try?" Julian sighed. "It feels like we're running out of options. We've searched this whole accursed manor."

"At least we won't starve…" Terry banged his wrist against a nearby table, shrugging to himself. "I mean, whoever kidnapped us probably put all that food there, so… We're expected to last for a while."

"Which makes no sense." Rose sighed. "What does our kidnapper want from us? We're just some kids, right? We don't have any connections or anything."

"That's right." The Deserter nodded. "I'm nineteen. Not going to a college or anything… What about you guys?"

"U-Um, I'm seventeen.. I-I'm not really, uh, p-pursuing higher education… R-Right now…" Harold pressed his index fingers together, nervous. "... K-Kinda busy with my, um, u-usual job…"

"I'm seventeen." Julian shrugged. "Was about to complete senior year of highschool, too."

"Eighteen!" Rose smiled, hands on her hips, happy to be one of the older people here. "I was gonna go to law school! I want to be a judge when I'm older. People say I'm pretty fair!"

Terry smiled. "Hey, that's cool. Uh… I'm eighteen, too, but I just turned eighteen last week…" The boy shrugged. "I'm not going to college. I'm trying to kickstart a career as an animal photographer." He smiled, bringing up the camera. "See?"

"Why animals?" Julian wondered, raising an eyebrow, tapping the arm of his wheelchair. Terry shrugged.

"I'm really good at getting them to calm down and stay in one place for a shot." Terry shrugged. "Like, I can get someone's cat to look just the right way, and I can get great angles... I'm pretty good at it."

"I'm seventeen." Lola shrugged. "What is all this introduction stuff going to accomplish, anyway? Are we looking for a connection? Because I'm not seeing one."

"Just one more." Rose frowned. "Tyson? What about you?"

"Oh… I'm seventeen, too." Tyson nodded with a small smile. "I want to go into the military, but, uh… I'm more of a thinker than a fighter, so.. I'm hoping I can get enough experience to be a general."

"Woah. That's a pretty hefty goal." The Deserter's eyes widened. "I mean… You sure you wanna be in the army, man? It's… Not as great as you might think…"

Tyson shrugged, moving his hand through his hair. "Well, I know it will be tough, but, I belong in a tactical position. It's just what I was meant to do."

"Tactical?" Rose echoed. "Oh, so you're a tactician or something, then! Are you good at chess?"

Tyson smiled, kind of happy to be turning to a subject that he was all-too-comfortable with. "Yeah! I'm not the best, but, I'm good…" He grinned. "And I play a mean Civ game, too. But I have real life experience with tactics, too! Giving out commands and figuring out the best solutions to problems…"

Terry laughed, smiling. "Well, that's really cool! We have a prodigy in our midst."

Lola frowned at that. "Actually… That's a good point. Some of us _are_ prodigies, aren't we?"

Julian covered his mouth with his fist, thinking for a moment. "... Hmm… I would like to think I make a mean narrator…" He smirked. "Or a legend teller, if you prefer. Terry is good at animal photography, Rose wants to be a judge, Harold… Does his thing, and the Deserter… Well, who knows with him, but Lola has a point. We're all exceptional… Or exceptionally strange."

Tyson gave that some thought. The York siblings upstairs seemed pretty eccentric, too… Perhaps they might have some talents as well? Was everyone here talented in some way…?

Hell, it was a connection, so Tyson would take it. One small, thin thread that seemed to keep things bundled together… For the most part.

The Deserter spoke up. "So, are we just going to wait around this bear thing? If it's a bomb, I don't want to be near it…"

"Good point." Rose quipped. "We should go do something else." She put her hands on her hips, smiling. "Hey, why don't we hang out in the dining room or something? We could make some food!"

"I fancy myself a good cook." Julian smirked. "I'd just have to get a better look at what's all in there."

"Fuck it, I'm hungry." The Deserter shrugged. "I'll take some food."

Everyone mumbled their agreements, following Rose and Julian to the dining room.

* * *

The next hour was a bit of a blur for Tyson… Mostly because, rather than pay attention, he had opted to sit at the end of the table and think to himself.

This situation was beyond strange, but he felt he was finally starting to get a small foothold on the whole thing. He had made friends with almost everyone who's woken up so far, and he started to get a basic understanding of how these people ticked. Better yet, he had gained an ally…

Harold was sitting near Tyson, looking nervously to him. "U-Um… Do you think the others who wake up… W-Will be scared of me…?"

"Maybe." Tyson shook his head with a small smile. "But we'll show them you're a nice guy. Don't worry, buddy."

Harold smiled softly at that, putting a hand to his chest. "Th-thank you, Tyson…"

Yes, for as strange as Harold was, Tyson thought he would be useful. Rose and the Deserter had decided to stay away from the executioner, but Tyson knew the benefits of befriending seemingly-dangerous people…

And yet, Tyson had to make sure his ties with the others were strong, too. He had seemed to impress Rose earlier, which was good, seeing as she might be a secondary leader in this situation. Lola seemed fine with his existence, which was probably the best he could ask from her. The Deserter, while infinitely strange, did seem to take a liking to Tyson, and didn't bash the tactician's head in when he had a chance, so… That's something?

Terry seemed nice enough to everybody, despite his weird quirk. Tyson decided he wouldn't bring it up to Terry, given how the boy seemed not to react well to others having an issue with the whole banging-wrist thing. In fact, if Tyson could sympathize somehow, Terry might be a good friend to keep around… Julian, on the other hand, seemed to Tyson to be a bit of a wild card. He had acted strange in the beginning, only to turn out to be a slightly more normal, if snarky, highschool student.

Finally, those damn York siblings.. Tyson was a bit upset with himself for not trying to shoo them away. He would have liked to speak to each new person himself… Being the first friendly face that each person saw might have benefits. Getting to know each of these nineteen people surely would be the key to success in whatever situation he's ended up in.

The boy sighed to himself. And he had only gotten to know eight people… There were eleven left. What was he going to do-

" **EVERYONE, REPORT TO THE BALLROOM! I KNOW YOU BASTARDS ARE ALL UP! GET OUT OF YOUR ROOMS!"**

The loud, blaring announcement hit everyone in the dining hall like a bag of bricks. They looked between each other, surprised…

"That was…" Rose whispered, shocked.

"Sounded kind of like that mouse guy from all those theme parks." The Deserter shrugged. "This can't be good."

The seven were wary, but eventually, they all filed out of the dining hall…

* * *

Tyson was surprised to see that their group size had suddenly more than doubled.

He looked to see several other people filtering in, all looking like they just had a _really_ bad day. Even Arthur and Georgia York seemed pissed as they entered the ballroom, as if someone had just interrupted one of their frilly tea parties.

"Son of a bitch..!" The Deserter whispered to the others. "What's with the big group size?"

"R-Rose was right…" Harold frowned, holding his halberd close to himself as he looked to the others. "There's… T-Twenty people here. T-Total."

"Did most of them really just… Never come out of their rooms?" Julian combed his hair nervously, grunting as he noticed more than one person looking at him funny.

"I don't blame them." Lola frowned. "We were the ones with the unnatural response. We woke up somewhere new and then decided to _explore_ that new place, all under the threat of cameras and even a submachine gun."

"When you put it that way, we really _are_ the weird ones…" Terry rubbed the back of his neck.

Rose and Tyson remained silent; the two of them surveyed the others, seeing all kinds of people. A man with a sword, a woman with some beautiful clothing and a devilish smile, a man with a lab coat, a girl holding a compass…

All of the sudden, they heard the voice again.

" **Hey, you bastards!~"** The teddy bear from earlier had popped out of the ceiling, dropping down and doing a pose, putting his paw on his side. "Welcome to my amazing estate! Isn't it just grand? I designed it after myself!"

Right, this day just got a _lot_ stranger. Everyone tried to talk at once, some of them yelling insults at the bear, some of them yelling in terror that a _teddy bear_ was walking and talking, and several of them simply feeding into the paranoia. The bear rolled his black, beady eye, crossing his paws.

"Listen up!" He growled, his voice countering all else, causing the crowd to shut up. "See, this is why you fuckers should have actually _left your rooms_ and talked to people! You would have been more orderly, and this whole thing would have been TEN TIMES EASIER to explain!" He scoffed. "Seriously, even the kid with the gas mask came out of HIS room."

"Pay no attention to the kid with the gas mask." The Deserter deadpanned as everyone was now looking to him. "He is but an illusion…"

"You're not fooling anyone, kid." The bear quipped, looking to the crowd. "Alright! My name is Monokuma, and you all have been _invited_ to my manor to play the most wonderful, most despairing game ever!"

"Oh this is gonna suck, isn't it?" The girl with the compass grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Ah, probably." A man to her right sighed, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery!" Monokuma glared, his red eye growing brighter. "Listen up, punks! From now on, y'all are Ultimates! Because you're all good at some boring thing or another, and we just wanna be able to keep track of you by giving you titles."

"'We?" The man with the sword echoed, raising his eyebrow.

"Shut it!" Monokuma glared. "So! Before I explain the rules of this game, I will be reading out your titles. You can find them again in the 'Ultimates' section of those fancy IDs I gave you."

Tyson blinked, pulling up his electronic pad. So this was an ID…? He actually had nearly forgotten all about it… The Ultimates tab was now clickable, so he pressed that and watched as a list appeared before him.

" **Terry Holds! You're the Ultimate Animal Photographer!"**

"I really don't want to be…" Terry admitted, tugging at his collar. "Can I go home instead?"

"No, fuck you and your feelings." Monokuma waved off. **"Hannah Snow! You're the Ultimate Dancer!"**

"..." The girl he pointed to was shocked, almost horrified… She was playing with her flowing white hair, just wanting this to be over with…

" **Harold Slayne! You're the Ultimate Executioner!"**

"O-Oh, wow." Harold smiled. "I-I never thought s-someone would consider me… Th-that good at my job…"

Everyone was now staring at Harold, and a number of people were taking a few steps away from him. Tyson sighed, putting a hand on Harold's shoulder. "Buddy, we really need to talk later about how people view your 'job'..."

" **Wait, fuck, I missed Dru West."** Monokuma snarled. **"Ultimate Cartographer! Argh, why didn't I alphabetize these earlier!?"**

"I really don't care." Dru deadpanned, holding her compass to her chest. "Like, really. I just wanna go home. We all do."

"I don't know, I kind of like it here." The Deserter quipped.

" **And the weirdo who just said that is the Ultimate Deserter! Fuck if I know his name, though."**

"Sweet, I get to keep my mysterious name."

" **Patty Silvers, you're the Ultimate Gardener!"**

A girl with a sly smirk on her face crossed her arms. "Of course. That suits me."

" **Barry Berry, you're the Ultimate Journalist!"**

"I can live with that." Barry smiled, adjusting his reporter's hat. "But, uh, do I get any perks for being the Ultimate Journalist?"

" **No, all you get is participation in my game."** Monokuma shrugged. **"You're not special. Anyway, speaking of nothing special, Rose Major is the Ultimate Judge!"**

"Hey!" Rose shouted, stomping her foot. "I'll be an excellent judge!"

" **Yeah, yeah."** Monokuma rolled his good eye. **"Jeremiah Core! You're the Ultimate Mechanic!"**

Jeremiah frowned, crossing his arms. He didn't bother too say anything in response, knowing it would be a fruitless effort…

" **Conchordia Flight, you're the Ultimate Opera Singer!"**

Conchordia said nothing, seeming to have figured out the same thing Jeremiah did. She simply put on a smile, twirling her hair.

" **Arthur York, you're the Ultimate Orator!"**

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less." Arthur grinned, but was ignored by Monokuma.

" **Aaron Wright, you're the Ultimate Pharmacist!"**

The man in the lab coat frowned, not quite happy with this role, but shrugging it off. He just wanted out of here… He had things to be doing.

" **Alright, who's ready for the attack of the 'S' titles?"** Monokuma deadpanned. **"Ready? Georgia York, Scriptwriter! Rye Titan, Seamstress! Nyla Greens, Subject! Julian Grendel, Storyteller! Nick Icarus, Swordsman! Ah, boy, these are gonna be hard to remember."**

The five who were called didn't have any particular reaction. The only one of note to Tyson was Julian, who pressed up his glasses, glaring at the bear…

" **Oh, right, and Lola Elsworth, Sharpshooter. Son of a… Six 's' names? Really? Who in the creative department thought this was a good idea? Whatever…"** He rolled his good eye.

Lola scoffed, fidgeting with her gun. It was taking all of her willpower to not pelt this bear with BBs.

" **Then we have Tyson Jin, Ultimate Tactician. Almost to the end here…"**

Tyson bit his lip, trying his best to memorize all of these names and titles. Monokuma's fast reading of all those 's' names threw him for a loop, however…

" **Finally, there's April Nun, Ultimate Trapper! We're finally done! There's your titles!"**

Tyson watched as the titles appeared on his electronic tablet… Ah, this would work, then. But there was something worrying about each name and title…

Right next to each name and title, there was a 'STATUS' icon… Each person had one of these, and each icon declared that they were 'ALIVE'... Did that mean they might…

Well, this was getting worse by the second. Tyson gulped, looking towards Monokuma, who simply laughed.

"Upupupupu…" He smirked. "Some of you are piecing it together… That's right, kids! My game of despair is… **A killing game!** "

Chaos.

The room burst into several different yells and cries. Tyson covered his ears as the room suddenly burst into a sound-filled frenzy… But again, one louder voice overcame it all.

" **LISTEN UP!"** Monokuma. "You wanna leave this place!? Then you've gotta kill someone and get away with it! When someone dies, we'll hold an investigation, there will be a murder trial, and you all will vote for who you think the killer is. If you vote the killer, they die. If you don't, innocents die. Got it?"

Before anyone could ask questions, Monokuma laughed. "And before you ask stupid questions like 'why' or 'how'... Don't bother! I'm doing this just because I can!" He grinned. "Now, if you want, you can check out the rules on your IDs. Also, keep in mind that the doors to each of your rooms are locked and unlocked using your ElectroIDs. So you better keep 'em around!"

"Wait!" Tyson shouted. "What about our arms!?"

"..." Monokuma looked to Tyson. "Oh, right. I forgot. Yeah, I injected a poison into you."

"What!?" Julian shouted. "What the hell!?"

"You expect us to go through a killing game while we're all poisoned?" Nick scoffed. "You're mad."

"Alright idiots, simmer down!" Monokuma frowned. "It's just the first motive! You get it? In three days time, that poison will start kicking in, and the lot of you are gonna die. But if someone kills before that… When the body is discovered, I'll immediately pass out the antidotes!"

"A motive…" Terry whispered. "Killing… This isn't good…"

"No shit." Lola snarked. "This isn't good. Even if we find a way out, that poison's just going to kill us."

Tyson's mind was working at overdrive. How could this happen..? How could they survive? Tyson needed to think this through. Did one of them really need to die for them to get an antidote? Perhaps they could…

But his thoughts was interrupted by the cries of some of his peers as Monokuma disappeared, leaving the students to themselves…

The group of seven that had been in the dining hall looked between each other, unsure of what to do next… Their situation had just gotten much, _much_ worse.

Tyson bit his lip. What were they going to do now? How could they do anything against a situation like this? A damn killing game… How was this possible? Could Tyson do anything about it?

He had to think… If he didn't figure this out…

People would die…

He couldn't allow that. He had to make sure as many people survived as possible. He wouldn't let this bear win!

* * *

 **DANGANRONPA: OFF THE HOOK**

 _A Fanfiction by Tipuzzle_

The scene opens with an overview of a completely white room. Within the room, all of the players lie on the ground, unconscious.

Tyson is the first to wake up, sitting up with his hand pressed against his head. He's remembering… Terrible, terrible things. The people around him disappear, replaced with bloody pulps, corpses twisted by despair.

Then, his friends appeared… But they all had twisted, bright, evil, pink eyes that replaced their regular ones...

One corpse disappears, replaced with a confident girl, wearing a judge's gown and wielding a golden gavel. She smirks to Tyson, eyes flashing a bright pink for a moment as her title card appears: _Rose Major, Ultimate Judge_

Another disappears, replaced with a man knelt down, looking at a picture of his loved one, a wrench in his hand. He glanced solemnly over to Tyson, his eyes pink and painted with evil, frowning as his title card appears: _Jeremiah Core, Ultimate Mechanic_

A dark shadow in the corner of the room appears. It's wielding a giant halberd and has red, piercing eyes… But upon zooming in, Tyson sees a scared boy, teeth chattering, eyes pink as his title card appears: _Harold Slayne, Ultimate Executioner_

Flowers appear in the center of the room, and a young woman rises from them, a finger pressed to her smirked lips, eyes pink as she looked confidently towards Tyson. Her title card appears: _Patty Silvers, Ultimate Gardener_

Gunshots are heard as a young woman with sunglasses slides in, her corpse fading as she pointed her rifle towards Tyson, glaring, her pink eyes unwavering. Her glare turns into a smile as her title card appears: _Lola Elsworth, Ultimate Sharpshooter_

Camera flashes mark the corner of the room as a boy jumps from the ceiling, rolling onto the floor and taking a picture of Tyson, grinning, giving the boy a thumbs up with evil, pink eyes. His title card: _Barry Berry, Ultimate Journalist_

A frigid cold enters the room as a boy with formal clothing and a large sword enter the room, glancing around with a sense of purpose, his pink, diligent eyes landing on Tyson as his title card appears: _Nick Icarus, Ultimate Swordsman_

A girl spins into the room, leaping towards the center, landing on the tip of her heel and smirking as she expertly waved from one spot to the other, moving like the calm flow of a river… She smirks to Tyson with bright pink eyes. Her title card: _Hannah Snow, Ultimate Dancer_

A figure in black robes and a gas mask bolts in, closing the door behind him and pressing his back against it. He looks to Tyson, removing his gas mask for a moment, shining his one good pink eye towards him as his title card showed up: _The Deserter, Ultimate Deserter_

A man rises from where his corpse once was, adjusting his gloves, glancing around with a sense of skepticism. He adjusts his lab coat, looking to Tyson, uncaring of the chaos around him, though his evil, pink eyes suggested he had malevolent intent… His title card: _Aaron Wright, Ultimate Pharmacist_

A girl bounces in, checking her map and compass, stepping over her corpse as she tries to find her destination. She growls, annoyed, looking to Tyson with a sense of disdain and with evil, pink eyes as her title card pops up: _Dru West, Ultimate Cartographer_

Having enough of this, Tyson tries to move, but finds his bound by some sort of rope and net… He looks up, finding a small girl looking down at him, smirking, offering him a light shrug and bright pink eyes as explanation for his imprisonment. Her title card: _April Nun, Ultimate Trapper_

A man and a woman, both dressed in extravagant clothing, dance around each other; the man carries a microphone, and the woman carries a paper and pen, and the two work together like the perfect team, their pink eyes glaring towards Tyson as their title cards appear: _Arthur and Georgia York, Ultimate Orator and Ultimate Scriptwriter_

A taller woman moves to the stairs within the room, sitting down and crossing her legs elegantly as she flips her hair, giving a stunning smile filled with beauty and evil intent to Tyson. Her pink eyes shined as her title card showed up: _Conchordia Flight, Ultimate Opera Singer_

A small girl smiles to herself, whistling as she got to work on her newest project, knitting together a cloth that depicted a skull and crossbones on it, smiling delicately with pink eyes as her title card appeared: _Rye Titan, Ultimate Seamstress_

A boy with a wheelchair appears out of nowhere, smirking as he pushed up his glasses, opening a book in his lap and allowing all sorts of mythical creatures to fly out as he laughed, pink eyes causing his glasses to shine pink as his title card appears: _Julian Grendel, Ultimate Storyteller_

Someone taps Tyson's shoulder, causing him to look towards a girl bending down to look at his pathetic self, smiling a sweet smile as she offered him a plate of poison. Her bright pink eyes mocked Tyson as her title card popped up: _Nyla Greens, Ultimate Subject_

Finally, a man offers his hand to Tyson. He's smiling, holding a small, digital camera, with a cat on his shoulder, meowing affectionately. He is the only one without pink eyes, and yet, his title card appears: _Terry Holds, Ultimate Animal Photographer_

With his help, Tyson breaks free of his binds. The boy hops free of his binds, pointing towards a teddy bear in the back, yelling towards him; Monokuma responds with a small smirk, shrugging as he shows his title card: _Monokuma, Estate Owner_

A chess board appears, and the people Tyson had met become pieces on the board… He looks up to see that Rose Major is on the other side, frowning towards him, holding her gavel high. Tyson glares, unwilling to back down… His title card appears: _Tyson Jin, Ultimate Tactician_

The stage is set, and the ultimates are ready to play…

But who will win in the end?

Who survives in a life or death game?

Please… Join me, for a Danganronpa unlike any other.


	2. Chapter 1: Collecting Mixed Pieces

Jeremiah Core wasn't quite sure where to go from here. After that startling announcement, the whole room had gone mad… A group of seven left together, and once they left, people began filtering out, all of them seeming either scared or cold…

Jeremiah had considered following, but first, there were three others in the ballroom with him he wanted to speak to. There was a tall man wearing a steel chestplate and holding a large, steel sword. There was another man, a bit shorter than the first, wearing a white lab coat with pink gloves. More interestingly, he had pink, ruffled hair and some big glasses… Jeremiah had never met someone so weird-looking before. Other than those two, he noticed a smaller girl sitting down at one of the tables, knitting something nervously.

"... We should talk about this." Jeremiah spoke up, a frown on his face. "About, uh, what we've gotten ourselves into…"

He ruffled his thick, black jacket, frowning. Jeremiah wasn't used to big, complicated problems like these… As a mechanic, he was much better at tackling things that he was _used_ to… But that didn't mean he was stupid with anything else. Jeremiah was actually pretty wise, in his own way…

"Of course." The man in the lab coat smiled, pushing his glasses up. "As much as I would just _love_ to try and get a word in among a group of twenty… It is better that we work in smaller units, no?"

"There is strength in numbers." The man with the chestplate frowned, closing his eyes. "... But, in a situation like this one… Yes. We should compose ourselves before facing the others."

"I-I don't want to be composed…" The girl sitting at the table frowned, knitting away endlessly. "I… I just want to stay in my room. Y-You can't get killed if you just… Stay in your room the whole time, right?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "You'd get killed if the time ran out. All of us would."

The man in the labcoat smirked. "So our only choice is to do what the bear wants…?"

"If that was my only choice, I'd gladly let the poison kill me." The man with the sword scoffed. "Murder is murder, no matter the circumstances."

Jeremiah let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well… Have any of y'all checked around this place yet?" He looked between his three peers. "Maybe there's a way out?"

"There isn't a way out." The girl pouted. "D-Do you really think someone who can kidnap twenty kids out of nowhere… W-Would leave an exit somewhere?"

Jeremiah tugged at his collar. "... Fair point…"

"We don't even know if this is being done by one person." The man with the pink gloves pushed up his glasses, smirking again. It appeared as though that was his natural pose. "That bear mentioned a 'we'. It's possible we're being kept by a sophisticated group of individuals…"

"Uh… S-So, we might have been kidnapped by... A bunch of smart people?" The girl, twirling her purple hair, translated. "... This just gets worse and worse…"

"Let's not give up yet." Jeremiah smiled, speaking in his soft, southern accent. "We've got three days. That's a lot of time to figure things out."

The man with the sword lifted it up high. "That is correct! We cannot let our enemy get to us!" He lowered his sword, glancing around nervously. "... But this does seem to be a tough situation. No exits, and our allies could be our enemies…"

"We should form an alliance." The man with the labcoat smirked.

"An alliance?" The girl echoed, suddenly interested.

"My name is Aaron Wright. I'm the "Ultimate Pharmacist" in this game." Aaron smirked, adjusting his pink gloves. "What are your names?"

"H-Hey, don't just ignore my question…!" The girl pouted, knitting away.

The man with the chestplate and sword put a fist to his chest. "My name is Nick Icarus. I am the Ultimate Swordsman." He pointed his sword to the heavens. "And I would be very interested in this 'alliance' of yours, ally!"

Jeremiah thought this through… An alliance, huh? What exactly did that entail? It sounded like a safety net, though, and hell, Jeremiah could use all the safety he could get in a situation like this. "The name's Jeremiah Core." He smirked, putting his hands in his pockets. "And, hey, little lady, you're Rye Titan, right?"

"Eek!~" Rye shouted, dropping her sewing equipment. "H-How did you know!?"

"He paid an ounce of attention to Monokuma's "list of ultimates"." Aaron sighed. "You're obviously the Ultimate Seamstress. These 'Ultimate' titles all describe our talents…"

"O-Oh.. So I guess I kinda gave it away…" Rye pouted, picking her equipment up. "F-Fine! But, then, what talent does Jeremiah have!?"

Jeremiah smiled. "I'm the Ultimate Mechanic." He grinned. "If there's any sorta machinery 'round here that you think can be our ticket out, lemme know. I can probably do something with it."

"What a dream team we have." Aaron smirked, ruffling his lab coat. "A pharmacist, a mechanic, a swordsman, and a seamstress… We have intellect, skill, strength, and charisma…"

"What does it matter?" Rye rolled her eyes. "We… W-We're all gonna die in three guys, days! G-Get it together!"

Jeremiah felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. "Uh, in three guys, days…?"

Rye pouted. "Shut up." She crossed her arms, looking away.

"We're forming an alliance. That's what matters." Aaron pulled out his ElectroID, flicking around on it. "None of the four of us will murder anyone in this twisted 'game'. We will stick together, and if a murder occurs, we will work together to discover the culprit." The pharmacist smirked, putting his ElectroID away. "Doesn't having three friends in this game make you a lot more… Comfortable?"

"I can't say I'm not pleased." Nick put his fist to his chin, thinking. "But we still have sixteen others to worry about…"

"Would you rather have sixteen people to worry about, or nineteen?" Aaron smirked, putting his hands in his labcoat pockets. "I think my offer is mutually beneficial, even if it doesn't do _too_ much for our situation…"

Jeremiah shook his head. "No, it's our best shot. Being alone would just make things worse…"

Rye hummed softly to herself while she thought about this. "Well… I guess it beats staying in my room, knitting all day…" She sighed, hopping out of her chair and putting her equipment away. "Fine. I… I'm in!"

"Brilliant." Aaron clasped his gloved hands together. "Now then… I suggest we all split up and explore this manor. We will return here in two hours' time to discuss what we found."

"How will we know that two hours have passed?" Nick fidgeted with his chestplate, nervous. "I haven't seen any clocks around here…"

Aaron covered his mouth a gloved hand, shaking his head softly, letting out a small sigh. "... Am I the only one here who's bothered to pay attention…?" He mumbled to himself, shrugging it off. "Check your IDs. Each one has a clock."

Jeremiah blinked, pulling out his ID and checking the time…

 **3:20 PM**

Well, hot damn. He smiled, putting the ID away. "Alright." He grinned. "So we'll meet at 5:20."

"Precisely." Aaron pushed up his glasses with a smile. "Well, then… Let us move. We're burning daylight, people."

"We can't even see the sun…" Rye pouted. "That phrase doesn't make any sense here!"

Aaron rolled his eyes, leaving the room. Nick and Jeremiah shrugged to each other, following after him, and after a small sigh, Rye left too.

* * *

Ten people ended up in the dining room. The room was certainly big enough to hold twenty people, so it felt a little empty as nine of the ten began taking their seats…

"I'll go cook." Julian smirked. "I'm sure there's something delectable in there…"

"You sure you're up for it?" Terry scratched the side of his head. "I mean, uh… With your legs, and all…"

"I'll consider this a fun challenge." Julian snickered. "If I can't reach anything, I'll yell to one of you."

He wheeled his way into the kitchen, leaving the other nine to the dining table. Tyson sat at the end again, with Harold to his left.

He put his ElectroID on the table, looking to the others. "We should, uh… Go over the rules, right?" He checked the eyes of the others here, seeing if everyone would go along with this.

"Might as well." Lola sighed, pulling out her own ID. "Who knows? Maybe there'll be something useful in there…"

"Y-Yeah!" Harold smiled. "W-We've gotta do all we can…"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Ugh… Alright. What's the first rule?"

Tyson clicked on the 'rules' tab, checking out the first rule. "The first rule says… That the only way to leave the manor is to commit a murder and get away with it."

"That's kinda screwy, huh?" A man wearing a reporter's cap smiled. "I mean, what kinda villain decides to hold 'class trials' and stuff for their own homebrew murder game, huh?"

Terry, Harold, Lola, and Rose looked up from their ElectroIDs to stare at this guy for a second, giving him incredulous expressions.

"... What…?" The man pulled at his collar nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The Deserter spoke up suddenly, laying back in his chair, keeping his feet on the table. "Actually, scratch that, who the fuck are _all_ of you? Pretty sure our group size grew by three…"

"Ah, I'm sorry for keeping quiet; I just wanted to listen to the rules~" A woman with flowing orange hair and a beautiful smile, crossed her legs, looking around at all of her peers. "My name is Conchordia Flight. I am the Ultimate Opera Singer."

Rose put a finger to her lips, thinking. "Your name and title are a little… Uh…"

"Hehehe… I know." Conchordia smirked softly. "People expect me to be a pilot or something… But I assure you, the only thing that I can make fly is my voice." She waved it off.

"Ah, so, I'm Barry, guys!" The boy in the reporter's hat grinned, rubbing his brown goatee. "Barry Berry! Ultimate Journalist!" He winked, twirling a pen in his right hand. "Though you can just call me 'Barry'~"

"Do we call you 'Barry' or 'Berry'?" Terry wondered, hitting his wrist against the wall behind him.

"Uh… Both?" Barry shrugged, not sure what Terry was getting at. "They're the same thing."

"Moving on." A girl with pink twintails rolled her eyes, raising her hand. "I'm April Nun. Ultimate Trapper. I figured it'd be smart to follow the biggest group of people… But, uh, I'm kinda put off by the guy in the gas mask and the guy with the giant fuckin' halberd…"

"Safety in numbers, I guess…" The Deserter shrugged, not caring much. "And, hey, I'll let you know my gas mask is, like, half my gimmick! I need it."

"Can't you just take it off?" Barry spun his pen in his hand. 'Seriously, fella, you're kinda… Freaky-looking."

"I'd be even worse without the mask." He growled. "So leave it."

"Can't blame me for trying." Barry sighed. "Right, so… Back to the rules, gang?"

"First one's that murder thing." Lola sighed. "Second one says… You can only kill up to two people at a time. Anymore nets you an automatic execution."

"Whoever's doing this wants this game to last…" Rose growled. "Fucking asshole…"

Conchordia smiled politely, twirling her hair with a small hum. "Of course~ I doubt anyone would go through all this trouble just to kill us all so suddenly…"

"This could be a social experiment." Terry brought up. "Like… Some sorta… Government conspiracy?" He bit his lip, putting his hands on the table as he gave out his theory.

"Why would the government lock up a bunch of teenagers and have them kill each other?" Lola pushed her sunglasses down, rolling her eyes. "Just seems useless to me…"

April shrugged. "Does it matter who locked us up in the first place…? The important part's finding a way out."

"Well said." Tyson smiled. "Let's move on…"

"Rule number three…" Terry frowned. "After a body has been discovered by three people, a body discovery announcement will play and we'll get an hour for investigation."

"An hour to play as amateur detectives…" Rose sighed. "That's just not enough time… Some cases get investigated for weeks!"

"We'll just have to make do, yeah?" Barry smiled. "No sense cryin' about it! C'mon, what's the fourth rule?"

Rose rolled her eyes, annoyed. "I wasn't crying…" She grumbled, looking at her ID. "The fourth rule says…. After the investigation, a class trial will begin. Mostly everyone must be present for the trial. One innocent, however, may stay out of the class trial. They may still be voted for, but they do not have to go into the trial room…"

"The hell kinda rule is that?" The Deserter groaned. "So someone gets a free ticket to stay out of the trial every time?"

What _was_ the use of that rule? Tyson bit his lip. "... Maybe it's to give us an advantage?" He shrugged. "We're basically confirming one person innocent right off the bat…"

"It's not a smart advantage to take, though." Rose shook her head. "Even if we can confirm someone innocent, they won't be able to participate in the trial. And we'll need all the help we can get if a murder does happen…"

"Y-Yeah..!" Harold smiled. "W-We should, uh, all work t-together if something bad happens…!"

"Says the executioner with the giant halberd…" April glared. "You'll probably kill first."

"H-Hey! I-I only kill bad people!" Harold gulped. "R-Really, really bad p-people…!"

"Harold won't kill." Tyson frowned, crossing his arms.

"How can you be so sure of that?" April let out a 'tch', looking to the others. "I'm not the only one who doesn't trust him and gas mask over there, right?"

"Harold won't kill." Tyson repeated. "He's my friend. I trust him."

Truthfully, it wasn't that simple. Tyson knew that Harold was… Uh... Dangerous, to say the least, but he also seemed to have a simple mind. Animalistic, almost. So long as Tyson stayed on Harold's good side, he was sure he could keep the boy out of trouble.

Harold's eyes brightened at Tyson's trust of him, but April Nun seemed displeased. Tyson would take that trade.

"You're friends with an executioner." The trapper sighed. "Is everyone here a fucking lunatic…?"

"Wouldn't surprise me!" The Deserter adjusted his gas mask. "I mean, if Terry's right about that government conspiracy nonsense, wouldn't having a bunch of crazy people make things more interesting?"

"But not everyone here is crazy! I'm not!" Terry banged his wrist against the wall behind him, shrugging. "I've just… Got weird tendencies."

"Seriously, Terry, you're gonna break your wrist…" Rose sighed, pinching her temple.

"Let's just get a move on, right, fellas?" Barry smiled. "There's a fifth rule here… If the majority votes the culprit, the culprit gets executed, and we all move on!"

Lola considered this. "So we can get justice for any murder victims… But what if we vote wrong?"

"Monokuma mentioned that 'innocents die'..." Rose quipped. "Maybe that means the rest of us die if we don't vote the culprit correctly…?"

Tyson groaned. "That's just unfair…" He frowned. "That means that, no matter what… The only way for us to survive in a game with rules like this one…"

Conchordia smiled, putting a finger to her lips. "Mmm… It means we either have to get away with murder, condemning the rest of our peers… Or we can wait things out and hope we don't get murdered."

"Technically, waiting things out is the best option." Tyson bit his thumb. "Two people live in that case, according to this sixth rule... But on an individual basis, killing is a much better option, because getting away with murder's probably not that hard when there's eighteen people to frame…"

Terry flicked his wrist, fidgeting with his little flash camera. "But… What if there's less and less people? I don't want to think about people getting killed, but…"

Lola bit her thumb, annoyed. "It's no use either way, is it? Think about it. If we assume that each killer only kills one person, then by the time there's only four people left, there will have been eight class trials…"

"By then, the last four will already know each other really well…" April contributed, shrugging. "Would someone in that situation risk killing?"

"What if two people sacrificed themselves?" Tyson suggested. "It's possible."

"That'd be noble." Conchordia smiled. "But I can't imagine it being that simple…"

"Monokuma might make a rule against suicide." The Deserter sighed. "A rule like… 'Kill yourself, and I'll kill everyone else!'. Something fucked up like that…"

Harold tapped his fingers on the table. "W-Well… I-In that case, couldn't someone just… M-Murder someone, and m-make it obvious..?"

"A sacrificial murder." Rose shuddered. "H-How.. How about we just cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? I don't want to think about it…"

"Not all of us will be there for it." April's eyes grew cold. "In that situation… Only four people would be left. There's nine of us here."

"Plus Julian in the kitchen!" Terry frowned. Julian called out, saying something along the lines of 'thanks for remembering my existence!'.

"Forget the 'final four'." The Deserter spat. "In this game, only _two_ people can survive, max. That means, if we can't find a way, eight of us will _definitely_ be dead by the end of this. Maybe more, if any of the randoms outside live."

Tyson bit his lip. "There has to be a way... " He sighed, putting a hand to his head. "There's just gotta be a way to save more people… Just two out of twenty is cruel…"

"This whole game is cruel." Lola sighed. "But that's the point. Someone's fucking with us, hard, and there just might not be anything we can do about it."

The room went silent at that remark.

Only two out of twenty can survive… And even then, only one might survive, if a culprit wins a trial…

Tyson was losing his mind. He just couldn't puzzle it out. Were they really doomed!? This couldn't be possible! As a tactician, he couldn't allow this! There had to be a way around the rules…

He just couldn't figure out one right now… Not under all of this pressure…

It was at that moment that the doors to the dining hall opened, and the silent crowd looked to the new source of noise. Two girls walked in, surprised to see a big group here.

"... Um…" The shorter of them, wearing a small red top and short skirt seemed nervous. "So, this is… The dining room…?"

"This room's whatever you want it to be, cutie." The Deserter adjusted his gas mask, only to yelp right afterwards, jumping out of his chair and hitting the floor. "OW! Fuck! What was that!?"

Lola whistled innocently, spinning her BB gun in her hand.

"Well, I like _one_ of these people already." The other girl, the one Tyson noticed with a compass earlier, smirked. "Can we sit here?"

"Go ahead." Rose shrugged. "We were just going over the rules."

"Actually, we finished." Terry corrected, tapping away at his ElectroID. "There's only those six rules…"

 **1\. The only escape from this manor is to kill someone and get away with it.**

 **2\. A culprit may only kill up to two people. Killing more than two will result in an immediate execution.**

 **3\. After a body has been discovered by three people, an investigation will begin and last for one hour before the class trial begins.**

 **4\. After the investigation, the class trial will begin. Most of the players must be present. One person (must be innocent) may opt to stay out of the trial. They may still be voted for, but they don't have to go into the trial room.**

 **5\. If the majority of players vote for the culprit, the culprit is executed.**

 **6\. The game will continue until only two people are left.**

"Why do I feel like more rules should be on here…?" April sighed. "Dammit…"

Tyson stared at the rules. It did look like something was missing, but… What was it…?

No, he shouldn't worry about it too much. He felt like he might make some wrong conclusions if he tried to theorize…

The two newcomers sat down at the table.

"So, uh… Hi!" The girl with the red clothes smiled. She was awfully pretty… "My name's Nyla Greens! I'm the Ultimate Subject!"

"Hey, I was wondering what that meant…" Lola frowned. "What did Monokuma mean by you being the ultimate 'subject', Nyla?"

"I've served royalty before." Nyla shrugged with a grin. "So that's probably it!"

"O-Oh… A-Are you from N-Novoselic, too?" Harold smiled nervously.

"Nope!" Nyla smiled and shrugged. "I've just been around, you know? And I'm just really good at the whole 'getting on people's good side' thing."

"Well, that's definitely impressive…" Rose admitted, glancing over to the other girl. "What about you?"

"Cartographer." She yawned, putting her feet up on the table, leaning back in her chair. "Dru West. And yes, I know my name's a pun, don't remind me."

"Well, now the majority of the 'players' are here…" Terry observed with a small smile. "Maybe we can start a strategy meeting or something?"

"Strategy meeting?" Dru jumped in quick, frowning. "What kinda strategy?"

"We need to discuss how we're going to survive." Tyson frowned, crossing his arms. "We're running low on options. In three days, we'll all die to poison. Even worse, now is the _prime_ opportunity for a murderer to strike and try to get out of here…"

"They'd have eighteen people to frame…" Rose repeated a point from earlier. "We're walking on thin ice…"

"We'll get an antidote right after the murder though, right?" April frowned. "Maybe, uh…. Maybe it's best if we pick someone out as a sacrifice?" She twirled her hair.

The room went deadly silent.

"... What!?" Barry's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!?"

"It's a good idea!" April pounded her fist on the table, angry. "We have an Executioner right over there, don't we? He's killed lots of people, let's just kill him if things get bad!"

"We're _not_ killing Harold." Surprisingly, it was Lola who spoke up this time. "Whoever killed him would be just as bad. Do you want someone to die with _murder_ on their conscience?"

"A-And I'm telling y-you, I'm… I-I'm not that bad o-of a person…" Harold meeped, hiding behind his halberd.

"Oh cut it out with that 'nervous kid' shit! You've killed people before! Am I the only one not buying this!?" April shouted, standing up and knocking the chair behind her over.

"Fuck! Ow!" Julian let out a cry from the kitchen.

"Are you alright in there?" Rose sighed, shaking her head softly. Dammit, things were getting heated fast...

"Ignoring the clumsy fuck in the kitchen…" April glared. "We might not have another choice! Sacrificing two people for the good of the group is a lot better than all of us dying!"

"So, what?" The Deserter kept his pretty pink baseball bat close to him. "You're gonna kill him, yourself?"

"Hell no! I don't deserve execution!" April let out a 'hmph', sitting back down and crossing her arms.

"And none of the rest of us do, either." Tyson sighed. "Let's just keep the paranoid arguing for later, alright? We still have time. We're at a moment of calm."

"Well, we are calm right now…" Conchordia smiled. "But what if someone's already dead?"

And for about the third time that day, the room went silent… But this time, nobody spoke up.

That was… True. While the majority of the players had been in this dining hall, there was a possibility that someone on the outside had been murdered by someone…

Barry started counting heads. "Tyson! Harold! Terry! Deserter freak! Lola! Nyla! Rose! Conchordia! Myself! April! Dru!" He rubbed his goatee. "Eleven people."

"And Julian's in the kitchen…" Rose frowned. "Speaking of… Julian! Are you still alive!?"

"Nope, I'm dead!~" Julian let out a sing-song response to Rose.

Rose looked annoyed, but the Deserter simply shrugged. "Really, Rose, you should've been _expecting_ that kinda smartass answer from him…"

"So there's eight people outside." Barry grinned. "Why don't a bundle of us folks go out lookin' for 'em?"

"Shouldn't we have dinner first?" Terry gulped. "Y-Y'know, for, uh… Strength and energy, and all that."

"If there _is_ a corpse out there, you do _not_ want to discover it on a full stomach." Lola rolled her eyes. "Let's just send a few people out."

"I'll go." Tyson volunteered, crossing his arms. "Harold? Wanna come with?"

Harold was easily one of the strongest people here. If they came across a murderer, he should be useful. The boy seemed happy to have been called upon.

Harold smiled. "Y-Yeah!" He nodded fervently.

"I'll come with." Dru put a fist under her chin, thinking silently. "Three people have to discover a body for the announcement to play, right?"

"Oh, but, what if the killer's not included?" Nyla hummed. "That would mean that three's not enough! I'll come with!~"

"Nyla, you and I were together the whole time after that announcement…" Dru sighed, annoyed. "And those two weirdos coming with were a part of the group of seven, too. None of us could have killed anybody yet."

"Ah, don't say that." April smirked. "You'd be surprised! I've read a lot of mystery novels that give people a 24-hour alibi, only for one little crack to screw them over!"

"..." Dru sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

"Woo!~" Nyla grinned.

The four left the dining hall, leaving the others behind…

* * *

Dru crossed her arms as they walked outside. "Hey. I never got your names."

"Is that why you called us 'weirdos'?" Tyson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dru smirked. "Just give me your names."

"I-I'm Harold Slayne!" Harold introduced himself with a smile. "Ultimate Executioner!"

"Tyson Jin." Tyson shrugged with a small smile. "Ultimate Tactician."

"Ah, that explains all that yelling April did…" Nyla smiled. "But you don't seem all that bad, Harold!"

Harold grinned. "Th-thanks…" He hugged his halberd, seeming pleased with himself.

Dru shrugged gently. "I don't trust him, but, so far, he's got a perfect alibi for any 'incidents' we come across." She pulled out her compass, opening it and spinning the needle. "So, I guess we're friends. For now."

Tyson felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. "U-Uh… You're not really good at parties, huh?" He chuckled awkwardly.

"No, I'm not." Dru smirked, closing her compass and putting it away. "But if it means I get to live, I'll be as cold as I have to be."

Nyla pouted. "You sound like you're trying _way_ too hard to be 'cold'..."

Dru shrugged it off, and after the group realized there wasn't much else to say, they got moving. They checked the foyer first…

* * *

Inside, they found a young man wearing a black, leather jacket, carrying a toolbox. He was staring at the gun mounted over the foyer, thinking to himself.

"Uh… Please don't tell me you're going to try messing with that thing!" Nyla called out. "That's REALLY not safe!"

"Huh?" The man turned around, blinking softly before smiling. "Ah! Yeah, I wasn't gonna mess with it. Don't worry about it, little miss." He grinned, crossing his arms.

Tyson frowned, thinking to himself for a moment. "... You're the mechanic, aren't you?"

"What gave it away? The tool box?" Jeremiah laughed. "Yeah, that's me. I'm Jeremiah Core, the Ultimate Mechanic. Nice to meet ya."

The other four gave their introductions.

"Executioner?" Jeremiah gulped. "Uh… I'll be sure to keep on yer good side…" He let a bit of his stronger accent slip as he grew nervous.

Harold pouted, but didn't object, getting tired of having to explain himself to people.

"Anyway." The mechanic frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y'all need something? I'm trying to get a good look at this thing…"

Dru frowned, crossing her arms. "Have you seen any others? We're making sure nobody's done anything drastic yet."

Jeremiah's eyes widened a little at that. "Huh… Right, that's a bright idea…" He bit his lip, twirling a wrench in his hand. "Well, I saw a couple of twins go up the stairs. Looked right terrified, but I doubt they'd hurt someone…"

Tyson nodded. "That's Arthur and Georgia. We should check on them, too, just in case…"

"Otherwise, I met with some people a while back, when the game was announced." The mechanic shrugged. "Aaron, Nick, and Rye. Good people. We decided to take our own look around this place before meeting back up."

"Not a bad idea." Dru smirked. "A second sweep of this place might be helpful."

Nyla frowned. "But, uh, who's searching where?"

Dru rose an eyebrow, looking to Nyla. "Uh, what does that matter?..."

Nyla put a hand to her lips, thinking. "J-Just trust me. Jeremiah, who's searching where?"

Jeremiah blinked, thinking to himself, tapping his wrench against his chin. "Well… Tell ya what, I think… Aaron said he wanted to check out the storage room. Nick said something about the lounge, I'm sure of it. I called the foyer pretty quick, but… I don't know where Rye went off to…"

Nyla gulped. "There's only one place she _could_ have gone, and she wasn't there…"

Tyson pieced it together. "There aren't many rooms available to us in this manor… Rye had no other choice but to check the dining hall after Jeremiah, Nick, and Aaron claimed the other rooms… But we didn't see her there."

"We didn't spot her when we stepped out into the hall, either…" Dru bit her lip. "The hell's with that…?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "I'm sure there's an explanation. She could have been exploring the ballroom, y'know?"

"Oh…. Y-Yeah, that can be it, too…" Nyla smiled nervously, though. She still had some faith in her deduction, and that faith made her nervous… Where _did_ Rye go? "Can I check the ballroom, just in case?"

"Harold, you should go with her." Tyson suggested. "If something's going wrong, you can protect her."

"Y-Yeah!" Harold smiled, wielding his halberd. "L-Let's go, Nyla!"

"I'm being followed by the scariest guy here…" Nyla smirked, crossing her arms. "I feel invincible~"

The two of them left the room, leaving the other three alone.

"I guess I can join you folks for now?" Jeremiah smiled. "We should stick together."

Dru nodded, pointing to the stairs. "We're gonna check up on those 'twins', right? Let's see what they're up to."

Tyson nodded. He hoped they were in good condition… It was a miracle that so many people were able to keep calm in a situation like this, so he wouldn't be surprised if at least a few weren't feeling sound…

He led the group up the stairs. The people he was traveling with seemed to change quite often, but as the game went on, things might change… There might not be many people left for him to hang around...

Tyson decided not to think too much about that. Not now.

* * *

Now at the bedroom hall, the three saw the twins near the center of the hall. They wore nervous expressions, but didn't seem to be panicking… Actually, when they noticed Tyson and Co., they actually started smiling again.

"A-Ah! Friends!" Arthur clapped his hands together. "It's good to see you! Are you holding up well?" He pointed with a confident smirk.

Dru sighed, opening her compass and spinning the pin silently, a frown on her face.

Jeremiah coughed, unsure how to respond, tugging at his collar awkwardly.

Tyson rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… We've seen better days." The boy smiled awkwardly. "Have you seen anyone come here? We're making sure nothing's, uh…. Happened, yet…"

"'Ah! No, we haven't seen a soul." Arthur frowned. "I'm afraid we have no information for you…"

Georgia was writing on her notebook at a breakneck pace, glaring at her brother, before tearing out the page and shoving it in his hands.

"Ack!" Arthur coughed, flinching as Georgia suddenly gave him some lines. Adjusting his frilly outfit, Arthur examined the page, and smiled before speaking.

"Actually, we do have some information!" He pointed. "We believe that two people are still holed up in their rooms! Check the lights on the card readers!"

Tyson, Dru, and Jeremiah began examining the card readers. Each card reader was a pure white, fitting in with the theme of this strange manor, but each one also had a little red bulb and a little green bulb on the side. The red bulb was on for most of the rooms, but only two had green bulbs on…

"Now watch this!" Arthur smirked confident, sliding his ElectroID through the card reader. The card reader beeped and Arthur opened his door, entering his room and closing the door behind him.

The green bulb was now shining on his card reader.

Georgia waited nervously for her brother, writing down something. Arthur exited the room with a grin, returning to his sister's side. "See? What do you think?"

"So we can tell who is within their room at any given time…" Tyson bit his thumb. "That's useful. So there's actually two people still hiding…"

"Don't suppose we can just knock on the doors and see if they're up?" Jeremiah shrugged. "We should make sure that everyone is holding up, right…?"

Georgia gave Arthur a piece of paper, flicking her hair and smiling confidently as her brother cleared his throat, readying himself.

Arthur pointed with passion. "That would be impossible!" He grinned, crossing his arms. "My sister and I tested it earlier! These rooms are soundproof!"

Soundproof!? Tyson's eyes widened. That's… Convenient? "Wait, how did you test that?" He wondered. "Was it conclusive…?"

"Absolutely!" Arthur smirked. "For one thing, no matter how much we knocked on the others' doors, they wouldn't open!"

Jeremiah sighed. "That isn't conclusive… They could've just ignored you…"

"Th-this next part _is_ conclusive!" Arthur glared, biting at his cravat. "I entered my room, closed the door… And yelled like I've never yelled before! But Georgia didn't hear me!"

Georgia smirked, nodding softly, confirming her brother's story.

"We tried it the other way around, of course, to be sure." Arthur frowned. "But no matter how much I yelled, Georgia didn't hear me from inside her room."

Jeremiah coughed. "That explains those weird sounds I heard earlier…" He mumbled to himself. "So they're definitely not lying."

Arthur smiled with pride, putting a hand to his chest. "Of course! We give you nothing but the truth, friends!"

"Still, this is good." Tyson smiled. "With this, we're only missing three people, right? We had twelve in the dining hall and kitchen, and we've found five. The only ones missing are the three Jeremiah mentioned earlier."

"Speaking of." Dru finally spoke up. "You're kind a loudmouth, Arthur, but you and your sister shouldn't starve out here. We're having a big dinner in the dining hall. Wanna join?"

Arthur brightened up. "We would absolutely love to join! Isn't that right, sister?"

Georgia smirked, twirling her pen in her hand, nodding.

Jeremiah smiled. "Well, that clears up that. I think things are starting to look pretty good for the lot of us!"

"Let's just check on Nyla and Harold in the ballroom, first." Tyson nodded. "Then we can decide what to do next."

Everyone in agreement, the group of five headed down the stairs…

* * *

Entering the ballroom, the five found Harold and Nyla checking under tables and calling out Rye's name.

"O-Oh! Hey Tyson!" Harold waved with a shy smile. "W-We haven't found Rye here, sorry…!"

"Where could she have gone!?" Nyla pouted. "She's really good at hide and seek..!"

Jeremiah frowned. "Well, she was a small thing… If I had to place my bets, I'd say she could've sneaked around y'all if she really wanted to…"

"Ah, that's probably it." Dru smiled. "Maybe she got shy and is hiding under the dining room table?"

"That would be an impressive feat of stealth!" Arthur pointed with a smile. "What a talented young lady!"

Georgia wrote something out, passing it to her brother.

"Ah!" He bounced back. "But not as talented as my dear sister, of course!"

"Geeze, dude, she has you _whipped_ …" Nyla snickered, smirking, her hands behind her back.

Tyson sighed. "Well, let's head back to the dining hall, then. We've checked all we could, right? We know where Aaron and Nick are, too..."

Jeremiah checked his ID. "Well, I've got a while before I've gotta be back here. It's only been thirty minutes…" The mechanic whistled. "Time doesn't fly fast 'round here, does it?"

 **3:52 PM**

"Well, we're not having fun, so of course it's not flying! That's how it works!" Nyla grinned.

"I-I'm… N-Not sure if that's how a-anything works…" Harold admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He had tied his halberd behind his back, no longer having much of a use for it.

Dru nodded. "Yeah, let's just go back… I'm fucking starved, anyway. Julian should be done by now."

The group of seven left the ballroom behind.

* * *

Entering the dining hall with three more people, everyone took some seats…

"Find anything bad?" Rose bit her lip, nervous.

"If we did, one of those announcements would've rung." Tyson shrugged. "Everything's fine. But have you guys seen a 'Rye' come through here…?"

"Nope!" The Deserter leaned back with a yawn. "But I could go for some marble rye… Best bread ever made…"

Jeremiah was actually checking under the table, but sighed as his search proved fruitless. He sat down, crossing his legs. "Well, damn. Maybe she's a really good hider after all."

"I'm finally done!~"

Julian grinned, coming out of the kitchen, pushing a cart alongside him. It seemed a little tough to do; he had one hand out to push the cart while he used his other hand to wheel himself and the cart forwards. On the cart was a large, steaming pot, and a large saucepan filled with some red tomato sauce.

"It's simple, I know, but pasta can easily feed twenty people." Julian shrugged, wheeling this all to Tyson's end of the table, farthest away from the door to the hall.

"Brilliant, gang!" Barry laughed. "I'm starving!"

"Dude, I could go for, like, ten bowls of pasta right now." The Deserter shuddered. "... Wait, shit… Can I eat with my mask on…?"

Everyone ignored the Deserter's plight.

"Thanks for making this for us, Julian!" Rose smiled. "I promise, next time, I'll cook. I know a really good recipe for stew if the right ingredients are in there!"

"There's lots in there, trust me." Julian chuckled. "You won't find a shortage of any kind of ingredients! It's a treasure hove of food! An absolute treasure! You know, I might not actually mind staying here if there's all of this food to work with! Perhaps that bear should have given me the 'Chef' ultimate title, eh? Yes, yes! That would have been good."

He spoke loudly, garnering everyone's attention. He smirked at this. "So, now that I have everyone's attention… Can someone help me pass all the bowls and utensils out? They're at the bottom of the cart."

Tyson raised his hand. "I've got it." He smiled, bending over to help Julian pass things out…

But something felt a little strange. Why was Julian making such a big scene about the food? It was…. Kind of worrying.

Maybe… The food really was poisoned?

He shook his head. No, no. Now wasn't the time. Now was happy dinner funtime. Tyson had to get his mind out of the worst case scenarios…

Soon enough, the food was passed out. Tyson was quick to be the first to try it, and was thankful when he found that he wasn't dropping dead onto the floor. Julian could be trusted for now, even if he was strange…

"..." April watched everyone else eat. "... Anyone feel weird?"

"I feel weird!" Terry raised his hand. "... But that's all the time…" He banged his wrist against the wall behind him, going back to eating.

"It's good food, April." Conchordia assured her. "Go ahead and eat."

"..." April sighed shaking her head. "Whatever. I've already got one poison running through my veins, what's another?" And with that blunt remark, she began eating.

But as everyone began eating, two people walked in, glancing around.

"Huh?" Aaron blinked, ruffling his lab coat. "What's going on here…?"

"Food!" Nick beamed, putting his hands on his sides. "Can we join you!?"

"I've made enough for everyone." Julian smirked. "And it's not poisoned. I can't believe I need to make that clear, but…"

Aaron shrugged. "Actually, we were looking for our friend. Her name's Rye Titan. Have you seen here?"

"..." Tyson frowned. "We were, uh… Looking for her earlier.. She wasn't with you?"

Jeremiah stopped eating, looking up at his 'allies' with a hint of skepticism. "What? But we already checked the rest of the manor…"

Aaron shrugged softly. "Nick and I finished our searches earlier than I expected… We decided to check on you, Jeremiah, but we didn't find you in the foyer, so we went here next to look for Rye."

"But Rye didn't come in here." Rose bit her lip, glancing around carefully. "... Right?"

"No way anybody can sneak past me that easily, pal!" Barry grinned. "Rye's nowhere to be found!"

"But she _was_ supposed to search the dining hall after all…" Nyla grimaced. "What's going on…?"

Lola stood up. "We need to search for her." She held up her BB gun, twirling it in her hand. "We need to have everyone accounted for."

Tyson finished his meal, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. It's getting kind of weird that nobody's seen her…"

Harold put a finger to his chin, thinking. "D-Do you think… Sh-she found a secret p-passageway…?"

"There's nothing like that in the storage room or the lounge." Aaron assured. "And Nick and I took some time to comb the hallway before coming in here, too. We would have seen her."

Julian let out a 'tch'. "We have to search for her, don't we, then?... And, is it anyone else, or is it getting cold in here..?"

Rose shivered. "I… I don't know? Is it?"

"Let's not panic!" Arthur grimaced, clearly panicking. "It feels just fine in here! Let's go out and search for Rye."

Georgia smiled, nodding politely, standing up next to her brother.

Tyson bit his lip, looking around…. The room didn't feel any colder to him, but, he did feel a strange, tense atmosphere… People began shuffling out of the room, one by one, ready to look for this missing person.

He didn't understand… How could Rye have avoided sight all this time? When she, Aaron, Nick, and Jeremiah were in the hallway, she was assigned to go to the dining hall. She couldn't have head into the foyer, because Jeremiah would have spotted her. Likewise for the storage room and the lounge.

Her only options were to either go into the dining hall, stay in the hallway, or go into the ballroom. If she stayed in the hallway, she would have been spotted when he, Harold, Dru, and Nyla walked outside of the dining hall. If she had stayed in the ballroom, she would have been spotted when Tyson sent Nyla and Harold to search for her.

It was possible that this mysterious Rye had stayed in the ballroom, waited for Tyson's group to pass, and then entered the hallway… But then she would have been spotted when the group went back into the dining hall, right?

This wasn't making any sense… He grimaced, looking to Harold. They were the only two left in the room now. "What are your thoughts?"

Harold frowned, holding his halberd close. "... She's… P-Probably dead, right? That'd make the most sense…. O-Otherwise, she would've shown herself…"

Tyson grimaced. "Er… I hope you're wrong, Harold…"

"Mmm… I-I don't think I am…" Harold didn't seem as expressive as he usually was when he was talking about death. He seemed more straightforward… "I know a lot, um, a-about deaths and stuff… W-We're definitely stuck in someone's trap…"

Someone's trap…? Tyson shook his head.

"Let's just go look for now." Tyson bit his thumb.

"R-Right behind you, friend!" Harold beamed, following Tyson out of the room.

* * *

The tension in the manor was thickening by the second. Tyson and Harold observed several people entering rooms and exiting them. Some of them were panicking, while some were keeping some measure of calm…

"This is like watching a bunch of headless chickens trying to solve a riddle crafted by Aristotle himself~" Julian wheeled in from behind Tyson and Harold. He was wearing a blanket on his lap now, shivering somewhat, but shaking his head, trying to ignore whatever he was feeling. "So, where are people looking?"

"I-I don't think anyone entered the storage room…" Harold frowned.

Julian wheeled quickly to the storage room, out-maneuvering Tyson and Harold in a heartbeat. The tactician and the executioner looked between each other before walking to follow Julian.

Julian had arrived a few seconds before the two. He seemed shocked, staring at the ground just before him.

"Julian? What's up, what'd you find?" Tyson peeked inside of the room…

Inside that dark storage room, a nightmare became real.

Tyson's body froze up. He had never seen anything quite like this. He had never felt a despair quite like this one.

And now, Tyson realized what Julian meant when he said he was feeling cold. Tyson felt that cold, too. The cold that made him not want to move any longer…

This cold, cold feeling of dread...

On the ground, just before Julian, was the crumbled body of a girl Tyson only barely remembered seeing. She was in the fetal position, her hair red, stained with blood… Her left hand had a hole in it, as though someone had shot right through it, though it was disfigured, as though it were the work of some drill instead… And worst of all was her face. Tyson saw an expression of fear, as though she had been fighting for her life when it was all taken away…

She wasn't moving. The room was cold.

A bell rung throughout the manor. Tyson could hear Terry screaming behind them. He could hear Julian doing his best to scream, even though nothing would come out… He could feel Harold holding his arm, making sure he stayed upright…

"She's gone." Harold spoke with only a tinge of sorrow. "... S-Someone killed her, Tyson…"

" **A body has been discovered in the storage room! Wow, you kids are quick! It's been, what, an hour? An hour and a half? I gave you guys THREE DAYS! This is amazing!"**

Tyson's stomach twisted. He didn't feel good.

" **Antidotes will be passed out in the ballroom. Speaking of, everyone report to the ballroom in an hour! Until then, happy investigating!~"**

This…

This was bad.

* * *

Julian had left. Tyson and Harold stayed in the room, unable to leave just yet. Aaron, Nick, Jeremiah, Lola, and Rose filtered in…

"O-Oh my god…" Aaron grimaced, holding his chest. "D-Dammit, no! Are you kidding me!? How!? We were just… We had just…"

"Our 'alliance' hadn't worked out…" Nick grimaced. "This is a cruel, cruel twist of fate…"

Jeremiah held his wrench to his chest, looking down, his mood shot. He couldn't say anything.

"We need to investigate." Lola spoke quickly, looking to Rose. "Right?"

"..." Rose had been staring at Rye's body, but she shook her head, grimacing. "R-Right… Right! Right, you're right, we… We have to investigate… W-We can't let a single minute go to waste!"

"Investigate, you say…!" Nick clutched his chest. "But it's too cruel! It's just too cruel…! Who could have done this!?"

The room went silent for a few moments. Nobody wanted to make the first move… Nobody wanted to go ahead and investigate this cruel, untimely death.

Tyson's mind was still rocketing through questions and trying to find answers. How could this have happened? How was Rye dead, here? Aaron had said that he was looking through the storage room, right? Or was that Nick? He couldn't remember… He just couldn't piece this together…

Harold let out a small sigh. "Um… I'll look her over. I-I bet I already know what the cause of death is, but… I-I can confirm it… F-For everyone…"

Aaron grimaced, adjusting his gloves nervously. "... I'll help. I-I may only be a pharmacist, but… My knowledge of human anatomy is extensive."

"Then the rest of us can split up and look for evidence." Lola frowned. "Rose? I'll go where you go."

"... Right." Rose grimaced, tugging at her collar. "I… I might be scared, but… This is the kind of thing I should be good at. A-As a judge… I'll find the culprit! I… I swear!"

Tyson briefly wondered how Lola and Rose got so close, but, he shook off that question. That wasn't important right now…

Right now, he had to investigate. For the sake of himself and everyone else here…

 **-=INVESTIGATION START=-**

Tyson, Harold, Aaron, and Nick were the only ones left in the room. Tyson decided to speak with Harold first.

"What do you think?" The tactician grimaced, trying his best not to look at Rye's body. "U-Uh… About how she died…"

"B-Blunt force trauma, definitely…" Harold frowned, kneeling down next to the body. "The h-hole in her hand isn't bleeding much, s-so it was p-probably done post-mortem… And the only other wounds on her body are on her head…"

The executioner sighed. "Th-three big spots on her head… I-I think the culprit wasn't s-sure whether or not that the first h-had killed her, so… They kept going at it…"

"That's sick…" Nick commented from the corner of the room, a grimace on his face. "Just sick… What kind of dog would do this to a little girl!?"

"We're going to find out." Aaron frowned. "We have to…"

Tyson took in this information, nodding to himself. "So, uh… Aaron. Could I ask you about that 'alliance' thing you mentioned earlier…?"

"The stupidest idea I've ever had, clearly." Aaron grimaced. "Myself, Jeremiah, Nick, and Rye were left alone in the ballroom. I had decided that the four of us should work and stick together. My first plan of action was for us to explore the manor, but… It turned out like this…"

Tyson felt genuinely bad for the guy. He could emphasize with a plan going the exact opposite way you wanted it to…

"So you were the leader?" Tyson wondered. "Did you tell everyone where to search?"

"That's correct." Aaron nodded. "I assigned myself to this room… Nick to the lounge… Jeremiah to the foyer… And Rye to the dining hall. But from what I've heard, she didn't even make it to the dining hall."

It was true that nobody had ever seen Rye in the dining hall… But Tyson had to wonder if that meant Rye had actually never been there…

Urgh. It was no use thinking about that right now. He needed more information…

"This might be a game of testimonies." Tyson grimaced. "We need to be able to account for Rye's movements. If we can't do that…"

"Right, right…" Aaron sighed. "But I can't give you much. Rye was a shy girl, so it's possible that she decided not to enter the dining hall with so many people inside… Perhaps she searched the ballroom?"

"... Perhaps." Tyson sighed. Dammit… This was getting him nowhere. "But, to be sure… Aaron, you never saw anything suspicious in here while searching the storage room?"

"Well, I found a tool box." Aaron mentioned. "But I went to the foyer to give that to Jeremiah. He'd find the most use for it, right?"

Tyson bit his thumb. So Aaron had left the storage room for a short amount of time… Did that mean anything? "And nothing changed when you got back?"

"There certainly wasn't a dead body here, if that's what you're wondering." Aaron sighed, adjusting his gloves. "I can't believe this…"

That was all Tyson wanted to ask…

 **About an hour ago was when Rye was first seen alive. She had teamed up with Aaron, Jeremiah, and Nick to explore the manor. She had been assigned to search the dining hall.**

 **Jeremiah was in the foyer the whole time. He would have spotted her.**

 **Aaron was in the storage room, but left for a short while to give Jeremiah a tool box. After he returned, nothing of importance had changed.**

 **Nick was in the lounge.**

Hmph. Tyson figured he'd better reaffirm that last statement…

"Hey, Nick, right?" Tyson walked up to the big man, crossing his arms. "Were you really in the lounge the whole time?"

Nick saluted. "Of course, ally! I had searched the room as Aaron had told me to. But I had finished quickly… So I went back out into the hall." He frowned, thinking to himself. "That was around when Aaron left the storage room, saying he had finished as well. We checked the foyer and saw that Jeremiah wasn't there, so we checked the hallway, only to find nothing. So we went inside the dining hall to check on Rye, and… You know the rest!" He lifted his sword with vigor.

Tyson frowned, thinking about this…

 **Nick was in the lounge, and when he had finished searching, he went outside. There, he met Aaron, who had finished searching the storage room.**

 **The two went into the foyer to check on Jeremiah, only to find he wasn't there.**

 **They did a quick sweep of the hallway, only to find nothing.**

 **Then they entered the dining hall. That was when we all decided to start searching for Rye. But we found her body in the storage room…**

Aaron was looking like the most suspicious man right away. He was the one who had been in the storage room… He could have killed Rye before he went out into the hallway, met with Nick, and then began acting innocent…

But that made no sense. Aaron, who had made an alliance and acted as a leader, even going as far as to tell Rye to search a room on the opposite side of the manor… Did he really kill Rye? Was it possible?...

Tyson sighed. There wasn't enough information. He had to go out and collect some more testimonies.

He exited the storage room…

* * *

In the hallway, Tyson found a few people. Nyla was by her lonesome, while Lola and Rose were talking near the ballroom. He also noticed Terry, Julian, Arthur, and Georgia near the dining room…

He decided to speak with Nyla first. "Hey, are you holding up alright?" He frowned, worried.

"N-Not really…" She shivered. "I… I can't believe someone's already dead, you know? I… I don't want to look at the body…"

"I.. Don't blame you." Tyson looked away. "It's not a pretty sight."

"Who could have done something like that to her!?" Nyla grimaced, holding herself. "Terry started yelling that Rye was dead, and.. I-It's like this place went to absolute hell…"

Terry started yelling Rye was dead…? Ah, right… Tyson remembered now. When he had discovered the body, Terry must've come up behind them. That was about when the bell sounded…

"Well, don't worry… We'll find the culprit." Tyson smiled gently. "I'm sure of it. There's a lot of smart people here, and a lot of us have alibis…"

"A-Ah! Right!" Nyla's eyes shined. "I have an alibi, too!"

"You do?" Tyson wondered, blinking. Really? Was it going to be that easy? Granted, he'd love for Nyla to get off the suspect's list. She just didn't seem like the type of girl to hurt a fly, and he'd rather not have to suspect that she cruelly murdered a little girl…

"Dru and I were together ever since that announcement!" Nyla grinned. "We spent some time in the foyer. Jeremiah entered, so we decided to go back into the hallway."

She spun in place, seeming giddy. "And from there, we talked, but eventually we went into the dining hall, and ever since then, we've been accounted for!"

Tyson's eyes widened. She was right… If she and Dru could vouch for each other, then they were completely innocent. In fact, plenty of people were confirmed innocent…

He and Harold had stuck together ever since the announcement. He had sent Harold off with Nyla, but the two of them were in the ballroom together, and couldn't have gone ahead and killed Rye then.

He could account for Dru, as he had been with her for the rest of that quick search.

Not only that, but the people in the dining hall would also have alibis. Barry, Rose, Lola, Terry, the Deserter, April, and Conchordia were all there the entire time… Not to mention Julian in the kitchen.

That meant that the only remaining suspects were… Aaron, Nick, and Jeremiah, who were all searching other rooms… Then there was Arthur and Georgia, who weren't accounted for directly after the announcement… Finally, there were those two stragglers who had holed up in their bedrooms…

That wasn't many suspects… It was possible that this case could be easily solved after all!

He smiled. "Thanks for that, Nyla. I think I'm finally starting to get a grip on this mystery…"

"Hehe, no problem~" She grinned, seeming much more peppy than she had before. "Just remember me when you solve this case!"

She seemed to have a lot of faith in Tyson… He was kind of surprised by that, but, he decided to welcome that faith. The more people who believed in him, the stronger the presence he would have during that trial…

Right. Nineteen people would be attending… Eighteen, if someone decided to sit out of the trial. Tyson would have to have a pretty strong presence to be able to get a word in edgewise…

He decided not to think about that for now, though. He approached Lola and Rose.

"Have you two found anything yet?" He wondered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lola shrugged. "Nothing much of value… Tch. I was looking for blood trails or anything, but I can't find a single drop…"

"That means she must have been killed in the storage room." Rose frowned, speaking decisively. "I don't think there's any other way this could have happened…"

It was true that Tyson couldn't imagine Rye being killed anywhere else, and yet, something about this was bothering him…

 **There were no blood trails to be found anywhere within the manor.**

Tyson decided to move along. There were still people he wanted to talk to…

"Oi, Tyson." Terry waved with a frown. "Uh… S-Sorry for freaking out earlier, man. I think I screamed in your ear…"

"It's alright, Terry." Tyson sighed. "I don't think anyone can blame you for how you reacted."

"I sure can't…" Julian grimaced. "I… I tried to scream… But it was like I had no mouth to scream with…"

"That was most certainly a reference!" Arthur pointed. "Let's not make such cruel jokes while we are investigating the death of an innocent!"

"Uh… I don't think I was joking..?" Julian coughed, shrugging. "A-Anyway… Do you have any idea who could've done this, Tyson?"

"There's still a lot of questions that need answers." Tyson admitted. "But I'm getting a pretty good picture… Arthur, Georgia, can I ask where you were right after the killing game was announced?"

"A-Ack! You suspect us!?" The orator grasped at his chest, and the scriptwriter next to him looked shocked, hiding behind her notebook. "We didn't do anything! We're innocent, I tell you! Innocent!"

It was true that they were unlikely to have committed the crime… But Tyson needed to make sure.

"Relax, I don't think either of you did it. But I need to know where you were." The boy frowned. "It's important."

"F-Fine…" Arthur grimaced, tugging at his cravat. "Well… If you must know, we had decided to relax in the lounge when a large man with a sword came in. We decided it was best to, uh… _Leave_ , right after that… We peeked inside the storage room and the ballroom, but nobody was there, so we went to the foyer, passing by this strange man with a lab coat. Then we went upstairs into the bedroom hall."

That made sense. Jeremiah was their witness. He had seen the siblings pass by him and go up the stairs to the bedroom hall…

Plus, their story of events coincided with Aaron's. He said he left for a brief moment to give Jeremiah that toolbox…

"Alright, that's fine." Tyson sighed, glancing over to Julian and Terry. "Hey, can either of you tell me what happened while I was out searching with Harold, Dru, and Nyla? Did anything suspicious happen?"

"Well… Nothing I can remember. We all just started talking to each other about everything." Terry frowned. "Julian was still holed up in the kitchen, though, making us pasta."

"I'm not one for socializing in such a big crowd, anyway." Julian smiled, pushing up his glasses. "And I will have you know I had some difficulty preparing that dinner. It's a shame that so much of it went to waste…"

Tyson thought to himself. "Mmm… Well, thanks, you guys. I think that's all I needed to know."

 **Arthur and Georgia had looked inside the storage room and the ballroom, only to find both to be empty. They then passed by Aaron, who was headed to the storage room. They entered the foyer to find Jeremiah, and went upstairs to the bedroom hall.**

This made no sense… Everything was fitting together! There wasn't a single contradiction or lie to be found… Well… No. This version of events still wasn't fully supported. To ensure that Nyla, Dru, Arthur, and Georgia all weren't lying, Tyson would have to speak with Aaron, Nick, and Jeremiah.

"Do you know where Jeremiah is?" Tyson wondered, shaking his head.

"Oh, he's probably in the ballroom." Terry smiled. "Most of everyone's in there, getting antidotes and stuff… I already got mine."

Tyson flinched, surprised. "Uh…"

"Tyson." Julian frowned. "Please don't tell me you forgot to get yours…?"

"I'll.. I'll grab mine, and bring some to the others." Tyson sighed. "I… Kind of forgot about the poison…"

"Tyson, you must take better care of yourself!" Arthur pointed. "Your life is important!"

Georgia nodded softly, offering a small smile as she spun her pen in her hand.

The young tactician nodded. "Y-Yeah, I've got it. I'll go there now."

He stepped away, moving to the ballroom. He wondered if he would see any of the people he hadn't met yet in there…

* * *

Entering the ballroom, Tyson let out an 'oof' as a woman pushed him aside, walking right past him. She was uncaring, moving back into the hallway…

"You alright, Tyson?" Came the familiar voice of Jeremiah. The tactician looked back, shrugged, and sighed.

"Y-Yeah…" He looked to Jeremiah. "I'm fine. Who was that?"

"The 'lovely' Patty Silvers. She's insisted she stay in her room." The mechanic rolled his eyes. "I don't think we'll be seeing her during the trial."

"Seriously?" Tyson grimaced. "Isn't that selfish…?"

"Very." Jeremiah shrugged. "But I don't think we can change her mind right now…"

Also in the room were a girl Tyson had never met before, Barry, Conchordia, April, the Deserter, and Dru…

"Hey, Jeremiah…" Tyson frowned. "When you entered the foyer today to search, did you see Nyla and Dru?"

"Huh?... Oh, yes, I did!" He smiled. "But they left right after I entered. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself."

Tyson nodded. "Thanks, Jeremiah." He smiled. "You've been helpful."

The mechanic grinned at that, twirling his wrench around in his hand. "Glad to hear it!~ Though I only told ya one thing… Are ya getting close to something, Tyson?"

"I might." The tactician admitted. "We'll have to see…"

Jeremiah smiled. "Good luck. I'm relying on ya smart people." He grinned. "I might be smart with machinery, but I'll be damned if I can solve a murder mystery!"

"I'll do my best." Tyson smiled, nodding to the mechanic. He walked past him, towards the center of the ballroom, where he saw a table set up with a large bottle of some clear liquid and several small, plastic cups…

"Pour the antidote in and take a sip." Dru spoke to Tyson from across the table. "Apparently that's all it takes."

"Got it." The tactician did just that, taking the bottle, pouring some of this clear antidote in, and taking a quick swig…

Urrrrghhhh…. That tasted terrible… Tyson clenched his chest, but tried his best not to throw anything up. He had just eaten, after all…

"I-It's awful, isn't it?" An unfamiliar voice spoke. "But it's… Necessary to live, I guess…"

Tyson turned to the source; a woman with long, white locks of hair and a green dress. She frowned softly, seeming nervous.

"Are you… Hannah Snow?" Tyson wondered. "You're the only person I haven't, uh, met yet…"

He hadn't met Patty, either, but he felt he didn't want to.

"That's me." She smiled. "Ultimate Dancer… Uh, sorry for not showing myself earlier, I just… I didn't want to come out during a 'killing game'..."

The Deserter heard that and scoffed. "You're apologizing for being fucking normal…"

"Like you can say _anything_ about being normal, fella…" Barry coughed, adjusting his hat.

Hannah moved on. "But, um… I heard the announcement, so I came down to get an antidote… Now we have to do a trial, right…?"

"Unfortunately, we do." Tyson let out a small sigh. "You'll have to join us if Patty doesn't come out of her room. Are you okay with that?"

"No, I'm really not…" Hannah frowned, glancing away. "But I don't have a choice… I can't just… Run and hide. It won't work…"

Tyson nodded, understanding. "Don't worry. There's gonna be plenty of people searching for the truth. We won't let the killer get away with this." He smiled, doing his best to reassure the dancer.

"..." Hannah sighed, folding her hands together. "We'll see what happens."

With that, she walked away, leaving Tyson alone. The tactician considered what he knew so far, and decided to go back to the storage room…

* * *

Arriving back in the storage room, Tyson found Harold, Aaron, and Nick still investigating.

"Hey, Aaron, Nick, I need to confirm some things with you." Tyson frowned. "Did you two see Arthur and Georgia while you were looking around the manor?"

"Oh, yes!" Nick smiled, doing a salute. "I found them in the lounge! They left shortly afterwards, though…"

"And I spotted them after giving the toolbox to Jeremiah." Aaron pushed his glasses up.

Tyson smiled. "Great, great…"

That really helped… So Arthur and Georgia were completely accounted for…

Now he just had to figure out who did it out of the remaining suspects…

"Oh, Tyson!" Harold spoke up. "I-I wanted to tell y-you some more things about, um, the body…"

"Oh?" Tyson turned his attention to the executioner. "What's up?"

Harold twirled his halberd around nervously. "W-well… It's about th-that hole in her hand, and a-about the blood in this room…" He bit his lip, managing to speak clearly. "... Tyson, I don't think Rye was _killed_ here…"

"Wh-what!?" Tyson's eyes widened. "What do you mean…?" That was a startling revelation. Does that mean the killer somehow transferred the body from the real scene of the crime, too...? How…? Tyson could hardly figure out how Rye got _here_ in the first place!

"There's j-just not enough blood, Tyson!" Harold grimaced. "She w-was killed violently… Th-there's no way she should h-have bled this little… Look!"

Sure enough, on the ground below Rye's corpse, there was very little blood pooled up…

"S-So, wait…" Tyson grimaced. "How… How does this connect to the hole in her hand?"

"I-It was drilled." Harold frowned. "E-Either with, um, a-an actual drill, m-maybe a screwdriver… O-Or even a corkscrew if you t-tried hard enough, a-and had a couple of minutes…"

Tyson shook his head. "So… Wh-what does that mean…? I mean, why would the culprit do that…?"

"It was d-definitely done post-mortem…" Harold bit his lip. "S-So that means… I-It was probably done to f-frame someone…"

Frame someone… But who? Tyson had an idea, but-

 **DING DONG, BING BONG~**

" **Everyone, please gather in the ballroom! The class trial will be held shortly!"**

… Son of a bitch.

 **-=INVESTIGATION END=-**

Everyone had gathered in the ballroom. Everyone besides that 'Patty Silvers', who had escaped to her room and wouldn't come out.

Tyson looked from person to person… Everyone was nervous…

The room shook… Some people cried out, startled, while others simply stayed close to the walls… In the center of the room, a large, circular elevator rose from the floor, opening its metallic doors for the players.

It was only just enough to fit twenty people, Tyson guessed.

"... I guess we have to go inside, eh?" Barry coughed, rubbing his goatee. "Let's get a move on, gang!"

He was the first to enter the elevator. Afterwards, everyone else followed… All of these young men and women filled the elevator, watching as the doors closed and the machine moved down…

Harold had stuck close to Tyson, hugging his halberd.

Rose was in front of the doors, looking as though she was prepared for what was to come.

Lola was by her side, examining her gun…

The Deserter had kept to the back, adjusting his gas mask, still carrying his pretty pink bat.

Hannah kept far away from the Deserter, keeping close to the likes of Dru and Nyla.

Nyla tried to keep a smile on her face, but was shaking somewhat, nervous for what was to come.

Dru was staring at her compass, wondering if this elevator shifted around at all…

Jeremiah was near the center of the elevator, looking down at a picture he had took with him…

Nick stayed close to the mechanic, putting a hand on his steel chestplate, hoping for the best.

Aaron was nearby, adjusting his gloves, scowling. He had a very, very bad day.

Arthur and Georgia stuck close, passing notes between each other…

Barry had a confident smirk on his face, doing his best to keep his spirits high, clustered near Terry and Julian.

Julian no longer had a blanket over him, but looked just as cold, shivering as they went deeper and deeper into the earth…

Terry flicked his wrist, frowning softly… He was scared of what was to come, but he wanted to face it head-on…

Conchordia stayed closer towards the back, playing with her orange hair, smirking softly.

April stuck to the side, leaning against one of the mechanical walls of the elevator, crossing her arms.

With all eighteen people accounted for, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened…

Tyson Jin wasn't sure what he was expecting… But he hoped he was ready for it…

 **-=TRIAL PREPARATION=-**

 **The Case of Rye Titan**

 _In just over an hour after the killing game was announced, a dead body was discovered. How was it that a murder occurred despite there being so many sets of eyes around the manor? Worse yet, where was Rye Titan during most of the long hour? She had joined an alliance and had agreed to search a room, only to end up dead…_

 _Your goal is to catch the culprit. You have little evidence to determine a culprit, but you have several testimonies. Constructing a timeline will be vital to solving this case._

 _Where was Rye Titan killed?_

 _How did her dead body end up in the storage room?_

 _And who killed her?_

 _Please, do your best to solve all of these mysteries..._

 **Patty Silvers has opted not to participate in this trial, confirming her innocence.**

 **-=TRIAL START=-**

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

The group of eighteen stood on podiums, all arranged in a circle. There were two extra podiums, one for Rye, and one for Patty… But Rye's podium appeared to be burnt, as though someone had taken a flamethrower and went to town.

Each podium was marked with a golden plaque, signifying who should sit where.

Tyson Jin stood directly in front of the elevator doors and directly across from Rose Major, who had Monokuma right behind her.

To his right were Jeremiah Core, Harold Slayne, Dru West, Nyla Greens, Arthur York, Georgia York, Barry Berry, Patty Silvers (vacant), and Lola Elsworth.

To his left were Rye Titan (dead), Terry Holds, The Deserter, Hannah Snow, April Nun, Julian Grendel, Nick Icarus, Aaron Wright, and Conchordia Flight.

Monokuma chuckled as the students got into place. "You lot are a bunch of psychos, huh? I can't believe a murder ALREADY happened! Upupupup!~"

Nick Icarus sighed. "It was our faults… If only we had stuck together…"

Dru scoffed. "Can you blame anyone for wanting to be alone after an announcement like that? We couldn't do anything about what happened…"

"No, that's wrong…" Aaron frowned. "I could have done something. I could have said that we should all search together, in a group of four… I was an idiot. She's dead because of me."

"D-Don't blame yourself…" Harold bit his lip. "Y-You never could h-have guessed what happened…! Y-You were trying to h-help her with that alliance.."

"I didn't help enough!" Aaron banged his fist against his podium. "I failed. She's dead. That's that."

Harold jumped back at this, but didn't object, keeping quiet…

Tyson sighed. "Blaming ourselves isn't going to solve the murder." He frowned, glancing around. "We need to stay on topic."

"Tyson's right!" Rose smirked. "We have to begin looking for the culprit! And Lola and I know just where to start!"

"You do? Already?" Nyla blinked. "Woah! You two are, like, super good at this!~"

Why was it that Tyson didn't think it was going to be that easy…?

 _Class Trial ~ Break_

Rose pointed. "Aaron Wright is our most likely suspect!"

"What!?" Aaron scowled. "What the hell are you talking about!?"

"You were the last one in the storage room, where the victim was found…" Lola lowered her sunglasses. "You have to admit you're suspicious."

"Not to mention, you're one of the last people to have seen Rye!" Rose pointed. "Murderers almost always know their victims before their death!"

"I-I didn't kill her!" Aaron grimaced, stepping back. "I swear!" He was panicking already.

"Stop accusing my ally!" Nick raised his sword up high. "Aaron Wright is innocent of all charges! I declare it so!"

"Just because you say he's innocent doesn't mean anything…" The Deserter sighed, looking away from this mess of a debate.

"Everything is explained if Aaron is the culprit." Rose smirked. "Rye wasn't found anywhere, despite us sending out a search party! They checked the halls, the foyer, the ballroom, and the bedroom hall!"

She twirled her hair. "The only places remaining are the storage room and the lounge…"

She pointed. "And if Rye was in the storage room this whole time, that would explain everything! All Aaron would have to do is lie!"

"Lie _and_ create an impossible situation." Tyson frowned. "You're wrong!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"... Wh-what?" Rose stopped, surprised. "Tyson?"

Aaron looked as though he had just been brought from the verge of death, clutching his chest. "T-Tyson! Please, tell me you have something…!"

"I have proof that Aaron is innocent." Tyson smirked. "Arthur and Georgia! You have that proof, too, don't you?"

"Huh? We do?" Arthur blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Tyson, but I don't know what you're talking about…"

Georgia huffed, writing something down and slamming it into her brother's chest.

"Ack!" Arthur winced, taking the paper and reading it. "... AH! We do!" He pointed "We have decisive evidence that proves Aaron innocent!"

"Wh-what!?" Rose grimaced. "What are you talking about!?"

"This oughta be a thriller!" Barry laughed, his hands on his sides. "Give it here, fella! What's your proof?"

"We looked inside the storage room while Aaron had left to give Jeremiah a toolbox!" Arthur pointed with prideful smirk. "But there was no Rye to be found!"

"Th-that means that Aaron didn't have Rye in the storage room the whole time…!" April gasped. "He might be innocent!"

" _Might_ being the keyword…" Lola let out a 'tch'. "Come on. That doesn't mean he didn't kill Rye when he came back."

The scene shifts to a map of the manor…

"There was a decent deal of time when the hallway was empty. Rye could have moved to the storage room to meet with Aaron…"

The scene shifts back to the trial room.

Lola was pushing up her sunglasses, a frown on her face. "Aaron still could have killed her."

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

Conchordia let out a small laugh. "Well, that was fun, but it looks like Aaron is still ensnared in the binds of justice…" She twirled her orange hair, smirking. "But we should discuss this further, shouldn't we…? To make sure he really is our culprit…"

"R-Right…!" Rose perked back up, saved by Lola's logic. "Aaron Wright! I continue to indict you of the murder of Rye Titan!"

"Y-You've got to be fucking kidding me..!" Aaron winced. "This is nonsense…!"

"Aaron, if you really are innocent, then let 'em talk all they like." Jeremiah frowned. "There's sure to be something wrong with what they're saying."

Tyson thought to himself… Jeremiah was right. They all just had to wait and listen… He was sure there was something else wrong with this theory!

 _Class Trial ~ Break_

Lola took center stage now. "I propose a new version of events…"

"This is ridiculous…!" Aaron grimaced.

"N-New version…? D-Did we have a-an old version…?" Harold thought to himself.

"Aaron left the storage room to give Jeremiah a toolbox…" Lola continued, unwavering. "But once he returned, he found Rye. Fueled by a desire to escape, he killed Rye there."

"What was the murder weapon?" Barry piped up. "Ya can't possibly indict this guy without a proper weapon!"

"There were a multitude of weapons in the storage room…" Lola sighed. "From steel pipes to frilly pink baseball bats, take your pick. He could have used any of them and simply hid the evidence."

"So when Aaron came out of the storage room…" April grimaced. "He had already killed Rye!?"

"No, that's wrong!" Nick pointed his sword. "The gunslinger speaks only lies! There's no way- Ow!" He flinched, shot in the shoulder.

Lola spun her BB gun in her hand, smirking. "That would be correct, April. All he had to do was pretend he didn't know anything, and nobody would know…"

Rose pointed. "Then that's it! Aaron Wright killed Rye Titan!"

"You keep devising these impossible scenarios." Tyson frowned. "Aaron wasn't capable of killing Rye! You're wrong!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"Aaron wasn't… Capable?" Lola looked shocked for once. "What are you talking about? Rye was a little girl, any of us could have killed her!"

"I'm not talking about strength." Tyson glared. "I'm talking about wounds! Harold, can you describe the wound on Rye's hand?"

"A-Ack!" Harold suddenly realized what Tyson was getting at. "Th-that's right…! I-It was a hole! S-Someone drilled a hole into R-Rye's hand…!"

"What does that…" Lola lowered her sunglasses. "... Ah, _shit._ "

"Wh-what!? What's wrong!?" Rose panicked. "I-I don't get it…!"

"The only thing in the storage room that could have inflicted a wound like that was taken out of there by Aaron himself!" Tyson smirked. "Jeremiah, can you check the contents of your toolbox? Is there a drill in there?"

Jeremiah smirked, taking his toolbox out. "Gotcha covered, Tyson!" He opened the toolbox so that everyone could see its contents. "I've got the drill right here!" He pulled out a yellow hand drill… It was completely clean…

"Y-You're completely sure that there wasn't another drill in the storage room…?" Lola frowned, but seemed to be losing her footing in the debate.

"Absolutely!" Nick saluted. "I checked the entire room! There was nothing that could have caused that wound!"

"Then.. Fuck, finally…" Aaron took a sigh of relief. "I'm confirmed innocent, right?"

"Looks like it, bro." The Deserter shrugged. "I don't think they've got anything more on ya-"

"No, wait." Lola frowned. "Your evidence doesn't account for everything!"

"Ah, son of a bitch, seriously!?" Aaron grimaced. "Fuck you! Fuck everything you stand for! Fuck- OW!" He gripped his shoulder, pained.

Lola twirled her gun in her hand. "Tyson, if I may…"

Tyson let out a sigh. "... A-Alright, fine. Go ahead. What's your theory?"

He couldn't help but wonder why Lola was so stuck on this idea… Was it because it was Rose's accusation? Or was she simply playing Devil's Advocate? Either way, Tyson had a gut feeling that Aaron was innocent… He had to make sure everyone else knew that!

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Showdown_

"You've proven that, when the York twins looked into the storage room, they didn't see anything…" Lola examined her gun, fidgeting with it.

"And you've successfully proven that Aaron couldn't have killed Rye _after_ he gave that toolbox to Jeremiah." Lola sighed, pushing down her sunglasses. "But both of those facts combined don't prove him innocent. He could have simply killed Rye _before_ the York twins looked into the room."

Tyson grimaced. "How…? They said they didn't see anything out of the ordinary…"

"Simple. You see, I spoke with the Deserter once the investigation started…" Lola pushed up her sunglasses, twirling her gun in her hand. "And he mentioned a trapdoor in the room."

"All Aaron had to do was put Rye's body through the trapdoor…" The sharpshooter frowned, crossing her arms. "Wipe the drill clean, and bring the evidence to Jeremiah."

"That way, nobody would have seen Rye's body if they checked the storage room while Aaron was gone!" Lola smiled, proud of her theory.

"You're wrong." Tyson frowned. "That version of events is just as impossible!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"Well, duh! Even I can tell you that!" The Deserter scoffed. "The trapdoor was locked, dumbass! He couldn't have put Rye through that door!"

"..." Lola pushed her sunglasses down, glaring at the Deserter. "You didn't _tell me_ that…"

"... I-I didn't…?" The Deserter meeped. "H-Haha… Uh… Whoops?"

Everyone heard the Deserter's cries as he fell over, shot three times by Lola, square in the chest.

"Woah, down girl!" Barry felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck.

"He's already dead, Jim!" Terry cried. "He's dead!"

"Don't be so overdramatic…" April sighed. "He'll be fine, they're just BBs…"

Lola was fuming, meanwhile. "Dammit…!" She banged her gun against her podium. "That fucker! I knew I shouldn't have listened to him…"

"Hey, what about me!?" Aaron glared. "You and your girlfriend over there have been accusing me this whole damn trial! You aren't exactly innocent!"

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

"..." Lola sighed, calming down. "I'm… Sorry. I went overboard."

"..." Rose pouted. "... I… I'm sorry too, but… Now what do we do!? Aaron was our only lead…!"

"Not to mention, everything Tyson brought up causes a lot of problems…" Dru sighed. "It means that Rye was killed in that storage room _after_ Aaron left and met up with Nick."

"By that time, though, most of us were already together in the dining hall…" Nyla quipped. "Who was there, again…?"

"Hmmm…" Arthur rubbed his forehead, thinking. "I think it was… Almost everyone! Once Aaron and Nick entered the dining hall, almost everyone was there…"

Julian smirked, pushing up his glasses. "Only three people weren't there… Rye, and our two hiders…"

"That'd be Patty and Hannah." Jeremiah recounted. "But… Patty holed up in her room and didn't come out. She's confirmed innocent by trial rules, right?"

"Then that leaves Hannah!" Barry grinned, pointing to her. "You killed Rye Titan!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"WHAT!?" Hannah shouted, hiding behind her podium. "N-No! I never left my room! I don't even know who Rye is!"

"During the only time the storage room was free of people.." Barry pulled out a pen and began writing on his journalist's notepad. "And free of witnesses, you and Patty were the only ones alone, right?"

He grinned, pointing. "Hannah's definitely the culp, gang! Let's fish out any lies we can!"

Tyson grimaced. Things did look bad for Hannah… But that sense of fear felt sincere…

He had to do what he could for her. If he didn't try his best and find the truth… Then nobody would be saved…!

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up_

Barry grinned, adjusting his reporter's hat. "Extra, extra! Read all about it! I've got the culprit caught red-handed!"

"What century are you from…?" Terry deadpanned, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Barry wrote some notes down. "On the afternoon of… Whatever day this is, little Rye was told to search the dining hall!"

"But she didn't do that!" He smirked, twirling the pen in his hand. "Instead, she hid away for about an hour!"

"That poor girl…" Nick grimaced, clutching at his chest. "She must have been so scared…"

"That was when our culprit, Hannah, arrived on the scene." Barry adjusted his hat. "This one's a wowzers, folks!"

"What the fuck's a wowzers?" The Deserter sighed.

"She lured Rye to the storage room and killed her there!" Barry pointed with his pen. "She's the only one with an opportunity!"

Hannah was hiding under her podium. "Nononononononnonono….!"

"Barry, you're wrong!" Tyson glared. "It's impossible for Hannah to have killed Rye, too!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"Y-You've gotta be kidding me, kid!" Barry looked shocked. "How d'ya figure!?"

"Well, for one thing, just look at her…" Dru deadpanned. "Do you think she could hurt more than a fly…?"

"And besides that…" Tyson sighed. "She didn't have the time to kill Rye and drill a hole into her hand. Even if we assume she had the weapon necessary, like a drill…"

The scene moves to a map of the manor.

"Aaron and Nick were searching the hallway until they finally went into the dining hall. After just a couple of minutes, we went out into the hall, searching for Rye."

"Barry, in your version of events, Hannah was hiding in either the ballroom or the foyer, waiting for the two to leave the hall. Once they did, she exited, found Rye, lured her into the storage room, and brutally killed her, drilling a hole in her hand."

The scene moves back to the trial room.

Tyson pointed. "That's just impossible!"

"A-Ack!" Barry grimaced, looking like he just got punched in the gut. "Y-You're killing me, smalls! That's just not right!"

Lola frowned, considering it. "Isn't it possible for Hannah to have gone into the storage room with Rye while Aaron and Nick were in the foyer…?"

"Not possible!" Aaron glared. "We only went in to check on Jeremiah, but we immediately saw he wasn't there! We went right back into the hall and began exploring!"

"Aha!" Nick pointed his sword upwards. "Thus, thanks to us, the good maiden's name is cleared!"

"R-Really…?" Hannah finally stood up again, letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness…"

 _Living in a Lazy Parallel World_

"Then it's impossible." Rose frowned. "We're looking at an impossible crime."

"Impossible…?" Tyson flinched. "What do you mean…?"

Rose put a finger to her chin, considering all of this. "Rye could not have been killed by Aaron, meaning all of the time between when the announcement of the killing game ended and when Aaron left that room for the second time are accounted for."

Her expression darkened. "And by Aaron and Nick's testimony… Rye could not have been killed after Aaron left the room, because they were searching the hallway, and any potential culprits would have to slip past them during this time…"

"The crime is, by all accounts, impossible. Rye could not have been killed by any of us."

"WHAT!?" Terry grimaced, shocked. "Th-that…!"

"Hey, now! I swear, the culprit's one of you!" Monokuma grinned. "Bear's honor!"

"It can't be!" Rose slammed her fist against her podium. "There's no way! We've discussed all of the possibilities!"

"An impossible crime…" Julian sighed, pushing his glasses up. "That's right, isn't it? We might as well vote at random at this rate…"

"Th-this can't be it…" Nyla grimaced. "C-C'mon! Deus ex machina! Something, save us!" She clasped her hands together, praying.

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

"Wh-what if Rye w-wasn't killed in the s-storage room?"

The trial room went silent as everyone slowly looked over to Harold, who had been mostly silent for a while now.

"... B-Because, y'know… Sh-she wasn't…" The boy shrugged. "I-I don't know wh-why you guys k-kept acting like she was…"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"I'm sorry, what!?" April grimaced. "Oh, and who gave the fucking executioner a mortician's degree, huh? How do YOU know she wasn't killed in there!"

"B-Because, um… I-I actually looked at th-the crime scene for m-more than five seconds…" Harold blinked innocently. "I-It isn't that hard…"

"April, did you _ever_ look into the room where Rye's body was…?" Aaron smirked, crossing his arms pridefully.

"F-Fuck you!" April glared. "I'm just saying, we can't trust what he says!"

"Then I'll back it up." Aaron frowned, pushing his glasses up. "Harold is right. There simply wasn't enough blood in the storage room. Rye wasn't killed there."

"Y-You're kidding!" Terry grimaced. "But.. We've been talking like it was this whole time..!"

"Exactly. We were wrong." Tyson sighed. "But we did clear up a lot of things… Because Rye's body was still put into that storage room. Someone still did that."

"I'm back from the dead, baby!" Barry did a fist-pump, grinning. "Alright, pal! I've got a new argument for ya!"

Tyson shook his head. "Um.. Go ahead…?"

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Showdown_

"Listen up, pal! My theory from earlier can't be wrong anymore!" Barry grinned, adjusting his reporter's hat. "Hannah Snow's still the culp!"

He pointed. "So long as Rye was killed somewhere else, all Hannah had to do was take Rye's body to the storage room! Simple as that!"

Tyson flinched. "D-Dammit… But, uh, where do you suppose she was killed, Barry..?"

"Huh? What does it matter?" Barry blinked, but shrugged, deciding to guess. "Well… It must've been the ballroom, right?"

He grinned, twirling the pen in his hand. "That's right! Because that ballroom was the only place Aaron and Nick hadn't checked!"

"I'm sorry, Barry, but there's still something wrong with your theory!" Tyson pointed. "You're wrong!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"A-Again, pal…?" Barry sighed. "Why do I even bother…?"

Tyson rubbed his chin, thinking. "If Rye was killed in the ballroom, there would have been a lot of blood… But no way to clean it up, right?"

"AH! That's right!" Arthur gasped, taken aback. "So there was no way she was killed there!"

"What about the bedroom hall?" Lola suggested. "That's still possible."

"No, it's not." Tyson shook his head. "It's not possible because of something you said, Lola. There were no blood trails anywhere. If Rye was killed in the bedroom hall, she had to be transported somehow, but there was nothing to transport her with. If you used your own blankets, you'd basically have to roll her up, and she'd get covered in her own blood…"

"Wait… That applies to almost every room, then!" The Deserter shouted. "Fuck! She couldn't have been killed just _anywhere_ without a trace!"

"That's right." Tyson frowned. "The culprit needed lots of time to clean the scene and think of a way to transport Rye to the storage room without being caught."

"Then, how…?" Rose felt hopeless. "How was it possible…?"

"There has to be some way that the culprit managed to transport the body without it being obvious, right?" Conchordia smirked. "Let's start there. Does anyone have any suggestions…?"

The courtroom suddenly blew up with thoughts, theories, concerns… It was like Conchordia had unwittingly let a bomb of tension and chaos go off.

"... I don't know why I bothered…" She sighed, watching everyone debate away.

Tyson grimaced. This was going to be tough, but.. He was sure that he was close to the truth of this case!

There had to be a way for the culprit to transport Rye from one room to the next without leaving any blood trails… If he could just figure that out…!

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Debate_

"This is impossible!" Rose grimaced. "There's just no way…!"

"I-If you used a tablecloth, perhaps… No, same problem…" Dru grimaced, spinning the pin on her compass.

"What if the culprit just used the magic of friendship or some shit?" The Deserter shrugged, uncaring.

"That's just ridiculous!" Terry cried.

"We're getting nowhere!" Lola pounded her fist against her podium. "Calm down!"

"I can see it! The light of the method of transportation!" Nick pointed his sword up high.

Harold gulped. "Wh-what if the culprit c-carted Rye's body o-over…?"

"They obviously carried her themselves, and were just super careful!" Nick grinned.

"It's possible to manage her blood flow." Aaron considered. "What if they simply bandaged her wounds before carrying her?"

"It's just not possible!" Hannah cried, gripping at her head. "We're doomed…!"

"Wait!" Tyson shouted. "Harold's got it!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"The culprit just had to cart Rye's body over!" Tyson crossed his arms. "All they had to do was put her body in a secure position and move it from one room to the next!"

"Do you even have any proof of that!?" April huffed.

"There was no evidence of bandages or cloths being used." Tyson considered. "And with no blood trails, there's only one option…"

"And how do you suggest the culprit carted the body?" Lola sighed. "There was nothing to cart it over with."

"No, there definitely was." Tyson frowned. "The culprit had something on them that they could have used…"

"... Sounds like you know who they are." Jeremiah frowned. "And, by yer logic, I've got a good idea, too…"

"Wh-who!?" Terry grimaced. "Who did it…? Who killed Rye?"

 _Class Trial ~ Classmate of the Dead_

 **-=SELECT A PERSON=-**

 **Tyson Jin**

 **Jeremiah Core**

 **Harold Slayne**

 **Dru West**

 **Nyla Greens**

 **Arthur York**

 **Georgia York**

 **Barry Berry**

 **Patty Silvers (Vacant)**

 **Lola Elsworth**

 **Rose Major**

 **Conchordia Flight**

 **Aaron Wright**

 **Nick Icarus**

 **Julian Grendel**

"End of the line!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

Tyson frowned. "Julian. You killed Rye, didn't you?"

"... Wh-what…?" Julian grimaced, speaking up for the first time in a while. "What are you..?"

"When we first went out looking for Rye, you were acting pretty strange." Tyson bit his thumb. "I didn't want to believe it at the time, but, I thought you were up to something fishy."

He crossed his arms. "Then… You started that rant about food, and how you might 'not mind staying here', as though you were trying to assure us you weren't a threat…"

He continued, unwavering. "Finally, you made an excuse for your blanket… You said you were cold."

"B-Because I was!" Julian growled. "What does any of that mean!? I'm the culprit because I act strange sometimes!?" He was having an outburst, banging the arm of his wheelchair. "Cut the shit, Tyson!"

"You hid Rye under your chair!" Tyson pointed. "That's how you committed this 'impossible crime'!"

Julian's eyes widened. "... Wh-wh-wh…."

"W-When everyone w-went to find R-Rye, you went b-back into the kitchen…" Harold hummed. "Y-You thought we didn't notice… B-But Tyson and I-I were suspicious f-from the start." He smiled. "I-I can… Pick m-murderers out f-from a mile away…"

"You had a blanket on, covering your lap and the space underneath your wheelchair." Tyson frowned. "Rye was definitely small enough to fit! All you had to do was ask where an empty room was…"

"Th-then you rolled in a-and dumped h-her body!" Harold shuddered. "S-So cold…"

"Y-You… What!?" Julian grimaced. "What the hell is this bullshit!? Really!? I _hid a dead body under my wheelchair!?_ Is anyone believing this!?"

"Y-Yeah, Julian's kinda mean sometimes, but… F-For him to kill…?" Terry's eyes widened as he hit his wrist against his podium. "That just sounds unlikely..!"

"Plus, we're talking about a dude in a wheelchair." April sighed. "Could he have really killed Rye?"

"Rye was small and weak. Anyone could have killed her." Aaron frowned. "She was an easy target.."

"W-Wait! Just wait!" Julian slammed his fist against the arm of his wheelchair, heating up. "You think I killed Rye… But I was in the kitchen the whole time! Everyone in the dining hall can confirm my alibi! Even you and your puppet executioner, you dipshit!"

"Harold's not my puppet, he's my friend." Tyson rolled his eyes. "And you make bad excuses. Because what you haven't considered is that we have three people who can confirm that Rye was supposed to go inside the dining hall!"

"B-But I thought she didn't…?" Aaron blinked. "That's why she ended up dead in the storage room…"

"No, she went inside the dining hall alright." Tyson smirked. "Her size allowed her to sneak right past us and into the kitchen!"

"That's such bullshit!" Julian growled.

"Hold on!" Barry was surprised, holding onto his hat. "I-I don't get it! How did she sneak past us, gang!? There were so many of us at that table!"

"It's impossible. She couldn't escape my sight." Lola lowered her sunglasses. "I am a _very_ attentive person, I will have you know…"

"There was a chance for Rye to sneak past all of us, into the kitchen…" Tyson smirked. "And it was Lola that gave her that chance!"

"Wh-what!?" Lola gripped her gun, pointing it at Tyson. "You better have some evidence to back that up! No way I helped a culprit!"

"I-It was accidental!" Tyson flinched. "Remember when Nyla and Dru walked in…?"

"Ah!" The Deserter rose his hand. "I remember! Lola shot me!"

"You deserved it." Lola rolled her eyes, putting her gun down to her side.

April gasped. "That's when…! When Dru and Nyla entered, Rye followed behind them and dashed to the kitchen! It'd be easy!"

"That's where Julian spotted her." Conchordia smirked. "And did her in, right?"

"There's a plentiful amount of cleaning supplies in the kitchen!" Nick rose his sword. "The scene could have been cleaned up post-haste while he was cooking dinner!"

"But he was in a hurry." Rose realized. "So… He hurt himself, didn't he?"

"Sh-shut the fuck up…" Julian was seething. "J-Just shut the fuck up already..!"

"He yelled from the kitchen while April was yelling at Harold." Tyson crossed his arms. "He probably hurt himself either trying to kill Rye, or while trying to do so many things at once…"

"I won't take this abuse!" Julian cried. "You fucker! I'm not gonna sit here and let you have your way with your insane logic!"

He sounded so much different than he had before… This Julian was frantic, instinctive, and angry. A far cry from the Julian of the past…

"I'm… I'm not the culprit!"

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Talk Action_

Julian was seething, combing through his hair. "H-how could you accuse me…? I thought we were friends!"

"I thought so, too. Then you went and murdered a little girl." Tyson glared.

"I didn't kill her!" Julian growled. "I didn't kill her! I didn't! Fucking hell, she couldn't have gotten into the kitchen in the first place!"

"She had the perfect opportunity!" Tyson pointed. "And she was told by Aaron to investigate! She had the method and the motive to head into the kitchen!"

"Y-You think I could overpower anyone!? I'm in a wheelchair!" Julian laughed nervously, tugging at his shirt. "Honestly, people! I'm as frail as a kitten!"

"Rye was the shortest girl here, and the weakest by far. You could tell just by looking at her." Aaron frowned. "You could have easily ended her life with a few good hits to the head."

"You fuckers!" Julian hissed. "G-Ganging up on me…! It's because I'm handicapped, isn't it!? You have something against me not being able to use my legs!?"

"That's just ridiculous!" Nyla pouted. "My grandma's in a wheelchair, and I love her!"

"Plus, you only got that injury a week ago. You said so yourself." Tyson glared. "Stop making shitty excuses and accept what you did!"

"I-I murdered Rye Titan…!?" Julian glared. "That's ridiculous! I'm being framed… Framed! Framed!"

"N-No, you're th-the one who t-tried to frame someone…" Harold frowned. "A-A drill mark… Th-that was to f-frame Jeremiah, w-wasn't it?"

"Me!?" Jeremiah looked shocked.

"Fuck you! The mechanic did it!" Julian snarled. "It was a drill hole! Who else could make that hole!? He has the tool right there! Vote for him!"

"Hey!" Jeremiah got heated, pounding on his podium. "I didn't do anything!"

"How could I even make a hole like that in that girl's hand?" Julian laughed. "I didn't have the right tool! But Jeremiah did! He killed her! He did it! Hang him!"

Dru rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, because we're all _definitely_ going to vote for Jeremiah now…"

"No, Julian." Tyson glared. "If you were in the kitchen, you definitely had the right tool. I know exactly how you made that hole in her hand!"

"Shut up shut up shut up!" Julian seethed. "I'll banish you into Dante's Inferno!"

"The thing you used… It would have taken a while, but you had plenty of time!"

"I'll fucking slay you like the monster you are!"

"The tool you used was…"

"I'm not a killer!"

"A corkscrew, wasn't it!?"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Julian cried, slumping over in his wheelchair. "Nooo… No! I didn't… I…"

"Give it up…" April sighed. "You're pathetic."

"Y-You tried to frame me…" Hannah sniffled. "You tried to frame so many of us…! For murder! How could you!?"

"..." Julian breathed heavily. "... I… I had to…"

"You didn't have to!" Tyson glared. "We could have thought of something! We could have done something!"

"There wasn't enough time…" Julian clenched his chest, his breathing getting heavier…

"We had three days!" Rose shouted, tears in her eyes. "We had so much time…!"

"YOU had three days!" Julian glared. "I… I have one..!"

The trial room went silent.

"... What?" Terry gulped. "Wh-what do you mean, Julian…?"

"I lied… I fucking lied, okay!" Julian grimaced, tears in his eyes. "I didn't get hit with a car… Fuck, my legs are even decent, I can walk if I try my best, but…"

He looked down. "... I'm… I'm sick. I'm very, very sick."

"But… You look fine…" Lola was confused, holding her gun against her chest.

Julian put his comb away, sighing, grabbing a clump of his hair…

And throwing his entire wig onto the trial room floor, revealing a bald young man in a wheelchair.

"I'm sick alright." He scoffed, coughing. "Fucking sick as hell… I only had a month to live. I knew, once I felt that poison in me… I didn't have long…"

"That… Julian…" Terry grimaced, looking away.

"You killed because you weren't long for this world." Conchordia closed her eyes. "Why didn't you accept it, then? Why did you fight for your life?"

"Why?" Julian laughed softly. "... Look at me, people. I fought because I'm fucking PATHETIC!" He yelled out, slamming his fist against his wheelchair, coughing. "I… I can't accept my death…! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

That was all it took to snap the hearts of several of the people here. The fact that nobody here wanted to die…

This was life or death. They had to vote the culprit, and yet… Once they did… He would die…

"... I'm sorry, Julian." Rose grimaced. "But… We have to vote for you. What you did was still wrong."

"..." Julian sniffled, grimacing. "... I just… Wanted to live another day… I-I did what anyone else would have done….!"

"..." Nick grimaced. "You did your best, soldier, but… In the end, this cruel situation… Forces our hand."

April sighed. "He's a murderer. Why should we feel bad for him, anyway?"

"He never would have been a murderer if it weren't for Monokuma!" Nyla cried, tears falling. "How could you all be so cruel…!? He's one of us! W-We can't just kill him…!"

"It's him or 'innocents die'." Rose frowned. "... We need to vote for him."

"..." Tyson grimaced. "... R-Rose is…. Rose is right. If we don't vote for Julian…"

"I-I'm sorry…" Terry sniffled, wiping his eyes. "W-We should have done more for you…!"

"Fuck off! You're all about to execute me…" The sick man in the wheelchair coughed. "I… I don't want to hear it... "

"I guess we're ready, then!~" Monokuma banged his gavel. "It's voting time, kids! Everyone, say your vote aloud when I call on you! When we hit majority- that's ten people, by the way- I'll count that as your chosen culprit!"

Tyson grimaced. Something felt wrong… What did Monokuma just say…?

"Rose Major!"

"Julian." Rose looked away, grimacing.

"I… I just wanted to tell another story…" Julian grimaced, tears welling up in his eyes as he coughed. "I just wanted to survive…"

"Lola Elsworth!"

"Julian." Lola sighed, taking off her sunglasses, bowing her head in respect.

"Barry Berry!"

"... Julian Grendel." Barry sighed. "I… I'm sorry, pal…"

"Another day…" Julian coughed violently, grimacing. "That's… All I ask… Another day…"

"Georgia York!"

"..." Georgia frowned, holding up her vote: 'Julian Grendel', in cursive.

"Arthur York!"

"Julian." Arthur grimaced.

"Another hour… A-Another hour… I-I just want another hour…! Another hour, s-so I can tell another story to the kids at the hospital…!"

"Nyla Greens!"

Nyla was out-right crying, letting out a wail as she was called on. "I-I don't wanna…! I don't wanna…!"

"I'll kill ya if you don't!" Monokuma laughed. "If you don't vote the culprit, you die!"

What was Monokuma saying…? Tyson was getting more and more bothered by the second…

"..." She hiccuped, sniffling. "... J-Julian Grendel…"

"Dru West!"

"Julian." Dru sighed, looking away. "Fucking hell…"

"Harold Slayne!"

"J-Julian…" Harold frowned. He didn't seem very affected by any of this.

Julian coughed, grimacing, holding his chest. "A-Another minute… Another minute…. I-I just need… Another minute.. S-So I can see my little sister's face again…!"

"Jeremiah Core!"

"..." Jeremiah grimaced, looking down. "I… I'm sorry, Julian… I have someone back home, too…" He sighed. "I vote Julian…"

"Tyson Jin!"

"..." Tyson gripped his podium until his knuckles were white. "... Monokuma… Who is the culprit…?"

"Who do you think?" Monokuma grinned.

"... Julian…" Tyson glared. "But the way you worded it made it sound like-"

Julian coughed… And coughed, and coughed… Everyone watched as he coughed his lungs out… Then they watched as blood began pouring from his mouth…

"N-No…!" Terry grimaced. "Julian!"

"That's majority, folks!" Monokuma grinned. "The one you voted as the culprit is… Julian Grendel! I would give him an execution, but, ah… Looks like he's already going through one."

"JULIAN!" Nick cried out. "Stay strong, ally! Don't let that illness kill you!"

"J-Julian!" Nyla sniffled, grimacing. "I-I didn't even fucking know you, b-but.. Please! Don't die! N-Nobody else needs to die like this!"

Julian coughed out more blood…

"Please…" He wheezed. "Another… Another few seconds… Another… Another moment…"

"J-Julian…!" Jeremiah grimaced. "Y-You're…!"

Julian Grendel look up at his peers, his eyes glossy… His glasses had fallen off, his chin was stained with blood…

"... Another second… To be alive…"

And he slumped over, unmoving.

"JULIAAAAAAAN!" Terry cried out. "NO!"

"..." Rose sniffled, but hung her head, grimacing. This was right, wasn't it? It was… It had to be…

Tyson stared at what was left of Julian, tears filling his eyes…

That same fate… Death… It would reach all of them, soon enough, if he didn't do anything…

The elevator doors opened behind them.

"Upupup!~" Monokuma danced in his chair. "That was amazing! Usually I'd get mad 'cause I didn't get to execute anybody, but that was the best execution I could've asked for!"

"Y-you're sick…" Lola grimaced, her sunglasses still off out of respect for the recently deceased. "F-Fucking… Sick.."

"W-We're… All going to end up like that…" Hannah whispered, grimacing. "W-We're all going to die…"

"Now move on, kids! Rest up! Tomorrow's another day of despair!~"

 **-= CLASS TRIAL: END =-**

"..." Tyson stayed at his podium… But several others were quick to leave. Terry passed by Tyson, sniffling, unable to control his emotions… And several other crying people passed Tyson. Several people were holding in tears. A couple managed to not let this experience hit their emotions at all…

But four stayed in the trial room. Tyson, Rose, Nyla, and Harold.

"W-We should go…" Harold frowned to Tyson.

"No." Tyson glared towards the bear. "I want answers... "

"Upupup~ I've got 'em! What's your question?" The teddy bear grinned.

Nyla was sniffling, crying her eyes out… Rose was silent, wanting to hear what this was all about. Harold only stayed because Tyson was here.

"... Who is the culprit?" Tyson asked again. "The man who just died, Julian Grendel… Or whoever we voted for?"

".. What?" Rose whispered. She hugged herself, scared of whatever revelations were to come...

"UPUPUPUPUP!" Monokuma laughed. "You figured it out! You're one hell of a tactician, ain't ya, kid?"

"What!? What does he mean!?" Rose grimaced. "What does that mean!?"

"Only the person who gets the majority of votes is considered the 'culprit'. I execute that person." Monokuma grinned. "But if the real culprit wasn't voted… They're allowed to leave the manor!"

"That's it!" Tyson's eyes shined. "We… We can save more people…!"

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Rose sniffled, grimacing. "What do you mean, 'save more people'...!?"

"If we let the culprits go free, and vote innocents instead…" Tyson did the numbers in his head. "W-We could save seven people at this point…! We could have seven people live instead of just one or two!"

"NO!" Rose shouted. "No! We are NOT letting murderers free, Tyson! Are you crazy!?"

Harold frowned. "H-He's not crazy…. He's r-right. If w-we let someone m-murder every round, a-and they get away with it… M-More people live, right…?"

"No! I'm not sacrificing my friends!" Rose glared. "You two… You two are fucking psychopaths! How could you just… Think about doing something so cruel!?"

"We don't have a choice!" Tyson glared. "We can save more people this way! In fact, if just _one_ person gets free, they… They could go get help…!"

"No." Rose glared, thorns in her eyes. "I'm not allowing that. You're out of your mind."

The elevator arrived, free of people… Rose stomped inside, turning around and hitting the button to go up.

And then there were three and a corpse.

"..." Tyson grimaced. "... She doesn't trust us."

"N-Nope…" Harold gulped. "B-But… I-If we don't do that, then… Nobody will be saved…"

"Hey, kids... " Monokuma snickered. "Since you were _so_ smart and revealed a culprit… I wanted to give you this."

He tossed something over. Tyson caught it…. It was a small key.

"That should help with… Whatever plans you might have in mind…" The bear grinned.

"..." Tyson looked down at the key. "... We have to.. Don't we?"

"H-Have to what…?" Harold blinked.

"To save the most people…" Tyson looked up. "We have to have someone commit a murder and get away with it."

Nyla stopped sniffling… She looked up, tears in her eyes… She wiped them away.

"... W-We do, don't we…?" She squeaked. "But.. H-How do we know Monokuma will keep his word…?"

"How do we know he'll do anything?" Tyson scoffed. "We don't have a choice. It's either we try this, or we sit down and watch as we kill each other mindlessly!"

"T-Tyson's right…" Harold nodded. "I-I mean… I-In pure numbers, th-think about it. There's e-eighteen people left…"

 **Eighteen people. If one kills and gets away with it, there would have to be one victim, one culprit, and one framed.**

 **The culprit would live, and fifteen would remain.**

 **At twelve, two people would live.**

 **At nine, three people would live.**

 **At three, five people would have gotten away with murder.**

 **All that would need to happen then… Someone can just kill themselves, and that would be seven survivors. That's more than three times the number of survivors that was discussed in the dining hall.**

"I…" Nyla sniffled. "I-I don't want to end up like J-Julian, but… Can we… R-Really sacrifice our friends like that…?"

"It's either eleven people die, or sixteen to seventeen people die." Tyson frowned. "Take your pick."

"..." Nyla shuddered. "O-Oh my god… That's the point of the game, isn't it..?"

"Upupup~ I have no idea what you're talking about..." Monokuma grinned.

"That's all it is…." Nyla shivered. "This game… I-It's not just a killing game…"

"I-It's a game to s-see… Wh-whether or not w-we'll condemn a m-murderer or a-an innocent…" Harold frowned. "Th-that's… The cruel g-game we're playing…"

Tyson frowned. "I know what we have to do now. It's the choice that saves more lives…"

But he had several obstacles in his way. So many people had voted Julian without a second thought… And Rose was strictly against this 'sacrificial method'...

Not only did Tyson have to get on Rose's good side again… He also had to find a way to help people commit murders and get away with them.

"We're… W-We're doing this, aren't we?" Nyla gulped. "P-Please say there's another way…"

"... Nyla." Tyson frowned. "Harold. We're going to my room to strategize. Are you with me?"

"I-I'll follow my friend t-to the ends of the earth!" Harold's eyes shined. "J-Just lead the way!"

"..." Nyla was scared out of her wits, but… "I-It's… Our only chance…" She shivered. "I… I don't want to do it, but… It's our only chance…!"

Tyson grinned.

 **Now he just had to find a way to get on Rose's good side…**

 **If he could convince everyone that he was on the side of 'the innocents' every trial, he could manipulate everything to ensure culprits go free, and people survive…**

 **Yes… People will survive.**

 **Tyson could help seven people survive.**

 **One or two people was too cruel. Seven was much better. Tyson could save lives, so many lives… All he had to do was play this game the right way. The way it was meant to be played.**

"Harold, Nyla… We're going to win this game." Tyson smirked. "All three of us. I swear it."

* * *

 **[Welcome to Danganronpa: Off the Hook, the only Danganronpa where the goal is to let culprits go free!]**

 **[Please enjoy the rest of this fanfiction, but keep in mind it only gets darker and darker from here on out! Happy reading!]**

 **REMAINING PLAYERS: 18**

 **SURVIVED PLAYERS: 0**

 **CHAPTER 1: Collecting Mixed Pieces: END**


	3. Chapter 2: The Royal Murder Plot

**A/N: I wanted to start off by thanking those who have reviewed so far and those who have continued to read. This was a project I've nearly completely finished for fun, and, it's so nice to know that some others are enjoying this as well. I want this to be something that has an overall positive impact, whether that be through entertainment or through discussion of the morals of this story. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this story, even as it goes down an entirely new path...**

* * *

The past few hours had been hell for Tyson Jin. He discovered the dead body of a girl, had to investigate her death, and had to point one of his friends as the culprit… Worse yet, that friend died on the spot from his illness…

As a tactician, Tyson felt at a loss for what to do. But when the true rules of the game were revealed to himself, Harold, Nyla, and Rose… It became very clear that he had to find a way to set as many culprits free as possible. That was the only way to save the most lives…

But Rose, alongside others, would have plenty of problems with that… Tyson wasn't sure that he could simply propose the idea to the entire group and have enough people agree.

Even if just five people refused the plan, that would be enough to screw so many people over… Killing them would be out of the question because that would lead to a tribal mindset or, even worse, all-out war. Tyson couldn't allow tensions to grow in this manor… Instead, he had to dim the tensions down and work on controlling his pawns…

His first big obstacle was Rose. She was close to Lola, who was arguably one of the smartest players here, given her quick thinking in that class trial. And if Rose can convince Lola that Tyson was untrustworthy, that could lead to several people in the manor not trusting the tactician…

And Tyson Jin needed to be on _everyone's_ good side. This was no longer a game of suspicion for him. For Tyson, this game was now about making sure as many people trusted him as possible. Making friends, gaining allies, pulling off massive plots to trick those who would oppose him…

Yes, it was clear. Rose had made herself an enemy of the _wrong_ person…

Tyson grinned to himself as he went up the elevator with Harold and Nyla. This was a game he was not willing to lose…

"I-It's a shame, though…" Harold frowned. "I-If we hadn't v-voted for Julian… H-He might have lived j-just a little longer…"

"He wouldn't have had long, though…" Nyla bit her lip. "It's… It's really horrible to say, but… I-It was a good thing he passed now, right…?"

"It would have been better if he were a victim or a framed." Tyson sighed. "Consider twenty people. We could have saved eight people in that situation… Six as culprits, two as the last survivors…"

"B-Because of Julian's murder… W-We're down to seven slots…" Harold gulped. "S-Seven out of eighteen…"

"We… Have to choose eleven people to die, don't we..?" Nyla grimaced. "I… I don't know if I can be a part of this…! I… I can't-"

"Nyla." Tyson frowned, walking up to her. "Do you want to live?"

"..." She shook, fearful. She was a few inches shorter than Tyson, so when the taller boy walked up to her, it was a bit intimidating. "... Y-Yes…. I-I do…" She sniffled, grimacing.

"Then we have to do this." The tactician frowned. "But… Only two of us need to survive until the end."

"H-Huh?" Nyla blinked, wiping her tears. "Wh-what do you mean…?"

"Ah, th-that makes sense." Harold quipped. "Th-there's two survivor slots for, u-um, n-not killing at all and s-surviving. I-It'd be best if, u-um, two of us made i-it there, so w-we can make sure m-murders move a-along smoothly…"

"Harold is my right hand man." Tyson put a finger to his chin. "He's able to think without getting emotional. He's an extremely valuable asset… But you, Nyla, you're emotional. Fragile… Which is why I want you out of here immediately."

"Wh-what…?" She gulped, eyes widening. "What do you mean-"

The elevator stopped. They had reached the ballroom… There was nobody there. It seemed that everyone had left.

"We'll talk more in my room." Tyson surveyed the ballroom as he quickly exited the elevator. Harold followed close behind, but Nyla stayed for just a second…

Emotional? Fragile? Well… It was true that Nyla wasn't the strongest, but… What was Tyson referring to when he said… He wanted her out of here immediately?

Did that mean…?

… Oh no… What had she gotten herself into…?

Gulping, Nyla shuddered, following the two boys out of the ballroom. Some of the toughest moments of her life were right up ahead, but in order to survive, she would have to overcome each one…

* * *

The manor lights had dimmed. The walls looked to be gray in this new light, and the world around the group of three seemed overall more solemn…

Tyson looked down at his key. "We'll go to my room soon, but… First, we should find out where this goes to."

Nyla nodded softly. "R-right… It might be useful."

Harold glanced around, suspicious. "... I-I'll cover you… I-I don't trust this." He rushed silently to one of the corners of the hallway, peering around it to find nobody there. "... S-Someone could be hiding, l-listening to us…"

"You're with me, then, Nyla." Tyson frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Harold will keep a lookout for us."

"R-Right." The girl shivered. "Let's… Let's go."

Tyson had decided to check the dining hall first. It might be a good idea to check around and get a bit more perspective on what happened in that first murder case…

Entering the dining hall, Nyla followed right behind him. The two found Aaron and Nick sitting down, eating some of the cold, leftover pasta that had been left behind.

"Hey." Aaron spoke up, wiping his lips with a napkin. "Tyson. Thanks for saving my ass during that trial."

Tyson put on a small smile, nodding gently. "Of course, but… I wish things had gone differently."

The pharmacist nodded in understanding. "Julian didn't deserve to die like that, even if he had killed Rye…" He sighed, crossing his legs. "... But Rye didn't deserve her fate, either. None of us deserve this, do we?"

"I've always been a proponent for justice. I don't see what I could have done to deserve this…" Nick sighed, twirling some pasta onto his fork. "And yet… Nobody here seems like a bad person, either… I can't imagine that any of us… D-deserve this fate…"

Tyson shook his head. "Bad things can happen to good people… It's our job to make sure that the fate that took Julian and Rye away doesn't overcome the rest of us."

Nick frowned, putting his elbows up on the table. "... I-I guess… That's right…"

"We'll do all we can." Aaron spoke with come uncertainty, but did his best to keep somewhat optimistic. "We have to make sure that… We all survive."

Nyla shivered at that. "B-But… Can we really _all_ survive…?"

"..." Aaron looked down at his pasta. "Well. I'm eating a dinner prepared by a dead man, so... I'm not exactly confident…"

"We'll make sure as many people live as possible." Tyson clenched his fist. "Because that's all we can do… It's the best we can do, for the people who have already passed…"

Aaron nodded in agreement. "You're right. We'll continue to do our best… And I'll learn from my mistakes. I won't let anyone like Rye die again."

"You didn't cause her death." Nick grimaced. "Friend Aaron, please… You can't continue to blame yourself for that…"

"I'm not blaming myself!" Aaron hissed. "I'm taking responsibility… I made a mistake, and I'm going to make up for it."

With that, the two of them continued eating. Nick didn't feel like objecting much more, and the room had lost any sense of conversation. Tyson shrugged softly, gesturing for Nyla to follow him as they walked into the kitchen.

If a murder had occurred in here, they wouldn't be able to tell… The whole place looked relatively clean, save a corkscrew that had been left on the kitchen counter, clearly out of place. Both Nyla and Tyson decided not to bring it up, not wanting to think about what that thing was used for.

"Begin searching." Tyson whispered. "Look for any kind of locked container, or… Anything at all."

This was the first time Tyson had been in the kitchen, he realized. It was mostly white and black, similar to the rest of the manor, though there were several cooking utensils of different colors, probably to help differentiate them. There was a large fridge near the back of the room containing all sorts of different foods, and there was a big, walk-in pantry near the corner of the kitchen.

The two went to work on searching. Harold had entered the dining hall after finding the rest of the nearby rooms to be vacant, silently and discreetly keeping an eye on Aaron and Nick.

"I-I can't find anything…" Nyla whispered as she dug through some boxes in the pantry. She pulled out a box of some candy cakes, though, eyes shining. "Ooohhhh… Nevermind, I found the best things~"

"Seriously?" Tyson sighed, shaking his head as he checked the freezer… Dammit, nothing. There really wasn't anything of value in this kitchen…

"Y-Y'know, this is just a guess…" Nyla bit into one of the small, fluffy cakes. "... B-But what if, mmph… What if the key goes to the trapdoor…?"

"..." Tyson's palm connected with his face. "Of course it does…! I never examined it for myself… The Deserter said he blocked it with a bunch of boxes…"

"So, mmph… There might be a keyhole!" Nyla beamed, nibbling on her candy cake treat, feeling smart. "Let's check there next!"

Tyson and Nyla left the kitchen, waving to Harold. They were spotted by Aaron and Nick, who waved them goodbye as they left the room.

"... Wait a second…" Nick frowned. "Something was awfully suspicious about that…"

"Huh?" Aaron blinked, adjusting his glasses. "What's up, big guy?"

"..." Nick thought to himself. "Nyla… Had candy cakes!" Nick slammed his hand against the table, nearly causing the poor thing to break in two. "There's candy cakes in there! I'm getting some!"

"..." Aaron sighed, wearing a small smile. "Knock yourself out." He chuckled as Nick dashed into the kitchen like an excited puppy.

* * *

Tyson, Harold, and Nyla entered the storage area. Luckily for them, nobody else seemed to be around…

"I guess everyone's getting some sleep in their rooms…" Nyla sighed. "I don't blame them."

"Th-the atmosphere in this m-manor… I-It's so restricting… Y-Yet mysterious…" Harold poked his index fingers together nervously. "I… I-I wouldn't know wh-whether to stay in my r-room, or go out a-and explore…"

The manor did have that kind of atmosphere, especially after their first class trial. There was nothing but fear and sorrow in the halls, and yet… There was a single ray of hope that shined upon this group of three, urging them to continue, keeping them on the path towards their goals. They had to push past this uneasy atmosphere and start saving lives.

Tyson and Harold began moving some heavy boxes out of the way while Nyla watched, eating silently.

"... So, um…" The nervous girl spoke up. "T-Tyson, you… Mentioned you wanted me out of here… Wh-what did you mean by that…?"

"I'm not suggesting killing you… If that's what you were afraid of…" Tyson huffed, moving one particularly heavy box to a corner of the room. He let out a sigh of exhaustion. "I just think you'd be perfect for, well… Getting out of here first. People trust you. And after that emotional display, they'll trust you more."

Harold nodded. "E-Emotions are… K-Kinda weird, but… They connect people. N-Nobody would suspect you of murder…"

"But… I-I don't know if I could… M-Murder…" Nyla grimaced. "I mean, that's… That's just not something I'm capable of. I-I'm weak, and I don't want to hurt anyone…"

"Then we'll solve both of those issues." Tyson gave her a small smirk. "Harold and I will do most of the work. All you have to do is the last bit."

"Th-the last bit…?" Nyla gulped. "I…"

After moving another box, Tyson stood up straight, looking to Nyla and crossing his arms. "Do you want to live or not?"

Nyla grimaced. "O-Of course I do! I really do! I-I want to see my family again, but… B-But this is too much, I can't-"

"Nyla." Tyson put his hands on her shoulders, frowning down at her. She seemed to be at the verge of tears, and the tactician couldn't allow that. He couldn't allow Nyla to have second thoughts about this. Because if this worked, he'd be able to save more lives… "Nyla, listen to me."

"Wh-what…?" She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes, looking up at the boy.

"You won't be killing anyone." Tyson didn't break eye contact, making sure the message sunk in. "You won't have murder on your conscience. This game, whoever's running it… They're the ones who are _forcing_ you to do this."

"B-but-" Nyla was about to object, but Tyson cut her off quickly.

"It's like if I took your hand, forced a knife into it, and pulled your arm over, forcing you to stab someone in the chest." Tyson took her wrist with a cold frown. "That's exactly what this game is doing to you. Is that your fault?"

"If… I-If I was stronger, I… I wouldn't be forced to-" Nyla hiccuped, but was cut off again, unable to get a single thought out to the contrary.

"Not a single person here is _that_ strong, Nyla. None of us are immune to this game, okay?" Tyson glared. "Listen to me. No matter what, you can't have any doubt that this _isn't_ your fault. Okay?"

"..." Nyla was shivering, a few stray tears rolling down her face. "... O-Okay… I… I understand…"

Tyson grinned. "Good. Now, don't worry about it right now, okay? We're not making you do anything yet. But we will need to plan tonight…"

He turned to Harold, who had just moved the last box out of the way.

Tyson felt kind of bad about what he was doing to Nyla, but, at the same time, he knew it was necessary. He had to stomp out any insecurities she had and shut her doubts down as soon as they came up. He wouldn't be able to reassure her like this during the class trial, so he had to make sure the effects were long-term. He kept a cold, commanding voice, and he made sure to keep eye contact. He gave her a hope to hold onto, the idea that what was going to happen wasn't her fault..

And, well, Tyson believed what he was saying. But he didn't believe it was the game that was going to be forcing her to kill someone, no…

It was him.

He was going to be the one making the plan. He was going to be the one picking who dies and who gets framed. Yes, Tyson Jin was the mastermind of this upcoming, nefarious plot… And Nyla was just a pawn at his disposal. A pawn who he needed to keep safe…

Tyson knelt down, finding the lock on the trapdoor and putting the key into it. With a single twist, the group heard a 'click' coming from the trapdoor, and Tyson was able to open it with ease, revealing a ladder that went down into the darkness.

"... Anyone got a flashlight?" Tyson looked up. Harold frowned, glancing around the storage room before laying his eyes on an electric lantern. No oil or flame required.

The executioner took the lantern and passed it to Tyson, who turned it on, holding it down the dark space and finding that the room seemed safe enough.

"Let's go." Tyson nodded, climbing down the ladder. Harold followed, and after doing her best to reassure herself, Nyla followed after them.

The trio arrived in a miniature prison. There was a single cell with thick, iron bars that allowed for no chance of escape, alongside a heavy iron door. Looking past the bars, there was a toilet, sink, and bed…

Harold found a key on the wall, smiling to himself as he unlocked the iron door and stepped inside the cell. "Th-this is just like the cells back home…! C-Can I sleep here now…?"

Tyson let out a small sigh, rubbing his temple. "No, Harold, you can't sleep here…" He frowned, glancing around, turning on the sink and watching clean water flow. "... Well, looks like someone could actually stay here, at least…"

"Wh-why were we given the key to a… A-a prison cell…?" Nyla bit her lip, face still a little red and wet from her crying earlier. "I… I don't get it…"

"There has to be a reason." Tyson let out a 'tch'. "Monokuma probably gave us this to help solve one of our problems… But which one…?"

The bear had given them this key as an advantage for solving the first trial. But Tyson couldn't figure out what this could be used for…

There were several problems facing the trio right now. Finding victims, framing innocents, deciding who should be let free and who should stay here to die… And gaining the group's trust again. How could Tyson gain Rose's trust, when the girl was so sure he might be a threat now…?

There had to be a way. And Tyson had a feeling this jail cell could help…

The tactician bit his thumb. "... Harold, say you didn't trust me…"

"B-But I do!" Harold meeped. "Y-You're my friend…"

"No, no, Harold, I'm being hypothetical." Tyson sighed. "Say you didn't trust me, like Rose doesn't trust me. What might make you trust me again?"

"..." Harold bit his lip. "... Mmm… W-Well… I guess, uh, i-if a culprit went free, a-and you convinced me th-that all you wanted w-was for one person t-to go free s-so they could go get h-help…"

Nyla snapped her fingers, suddenly getting an idea. "... What if a culprit has already gone free…?"

"What?" Tyson rose an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Nyla crossed her arms, looking up at the ceiling as she thought to herself. "Well… Harold's right. Rose wouldn't have much reason to trust you unless the reason she didn't trust you was absolved, right?"

She was talking like she knew what she was doing now, giving the boys a small smile as she talked out her idea. "But that can't be absolved by you letting me go free, because she wouldn't allow that. Rose would be completely against whatever you or Harold try to do or say in a class trial if she doesn't trust you, and she would get as many people on her side as possible."

She beamed, putting her hands on her sides. "But, remember what Monokuma said? He never directly said that Julian killed Rye, all he said was that Julian was the chosen culprit, and that's how we figured out the nature of this game… So if we can convince Rose that Julian wasn't the culprit, and that someone else has gotten away with the murder… You'd be golden!"

Tyson and Harold stared at Nyla, amazed. "... N-Nyla, how did you _do_ that!?" Tyson grinned. "That's fucking brilliant!"

"Huh?" Nyla blinked, confused. "W-Well, um… As a subject, it's kinda my job to kiss up to people, s-so I'm pretty good at knowing how to get on people's good sides… But, um…" She rubbed the back of her neck, nervous. "I-Isn't it impossible…? I mean, it's a good idea _in theory_ , but how could we possibly-"

"Nyla." Tyson smirked. "Let's say Julian didn't do it. Who's your next best guess?"

"U-Uh…" The girl's eyes widened as she was put on the spot. "Um… Well, I don't think Aaron did it… Hannah's unbelievable too, she's, uh, way too shy… And the only other person with a drill is Jeremiah, so… Maybe him? But did he even have a chance?"

"He did!" Tyson grinned. "That's how we'll do this! We can frame the murder on Jeremiah!"

"Woah! Wait!" Nyla grimaced. "B-But that won't help if he isn't _outside the manor_ , right? Just because you say Jeremiah's the real culprit won't mean anything if he doesn't "escape" so you can say that-"

"Jeremiah can escape, alright." Tyson smirked. "I know exactly how to make him 'escape'."

Harold looked back to the cell behind them. "... Oooohhhh…."

"..." Nyla was confused, but once Harold looked back to the cell, she started to get it. "... You can't be serious…"

 **The problem in front of them… How would they win back Rose's trust?**

 **Tyson expressed, during his excited rant back in the trial room, that if only one person escaped and got help, many more people would be able to survive. However, Rose does not want a single person to get away with murder, and this caused her to distrust Tyson.**

 **Nyla brought up the idea that, if someone had already gotten away with murder, Tyson could simply say that help is coming, and pretend as though he is satisfied. To do this, they must frame someone else for the murder of Rye Titan.**

 **Julian confessed to the crime, but he was sickly and weak. He also garnered plenty of sympathy in his final moments…**

 **It's possible to make people think that Julian had done nothing wrong, and was simply manipulated by the true killer. This would not be an easy feat to accomplish, as Tyson would have to frame one of the eighteen people inside the manor for the murder, and as such, they could defend themselves…**

 **But if they couldn't defend themselves because nobody knew where they were, that would help Tyson's case. For someone to presumably not be 'in the manor' would make someone think that they are 'outside of the manor', or, in other words… People might think that whoever Tyson framed had gotten away with murder and escaped.**

 **In the case of Rye Titan, there were several alibis and witness testimonies… If Tyson could shed enough doubt on all of them, he might be able to convince the manor that someone else had killed Rye…**

 **All he needed to do was put the person he wanted to frame for Rye's murder in a place where nobody would be able to find them.**

Tyson smirked. "Oi, Harold. Do you know anything about kidnappings?"

"O-Oh! Kidnapping p-people is part of m-my job!" Harold beamed, clasping his hands together. "I-I'm really good a-at it…"

"This is insane." Nyla gasped. "This is absolutely _insane._ You two can't possibly be thinking of kidnapping someone!?"

"Nyla, we're going to be killing people soon." Tyson sighed. "And you're questioning a _kidnapping_?"

Nyla gulped, shivering in place. "... H-How do you just… Think like this? No rational person… Jumps to kidnapping and murder as first solutions…"

"Murder's our only solution if we want to free people from this place." Tyson frowned. "And if you have another solution for how to get that stubborn judge's trust back, I'd love to hear it. But you already gave your opinion on that."

"..." Nyla grimaced. "... I… I'm not so sure about this anymore…"

"You don't have to be involved with this part." Tyson rolled his eyes. "... Just… Act like you don't know anything."

Tyson was aware of how cruel he was being. He was plotting a kidnapping of all things. He was plotting to keep a man in a cell for as long as the game went on. It was an insane, despicable idea, and yet, it was the best solution the tactician had on hand.

Harold frowned. "... N-Nyla. We a-aren't doing this to hurt anyone… W-We just want people to survive…"

"..." Nyla rubbed her arm. "I… I know. But… This is just so unfair…"

"This situation's unfair, so we have to play unfair." Tyson frowned, crossing his arms. "That's just how it works…. And that's why we're getting you out of here, Nyla. You shouldn't have to be a part of this."

"..." Nyla sniffled. "... Y-You're… You're right. I-I just want out…"

"Th-then, as your friends, w-we… We'll help you!" Harold smiled. "W-We'll… Need to m-make sacrifices, b-but, that's the f-fault of the game, i-isn't it?"

"..." The subject gulped, nodding gently…

Tyson had a feeling Nyla was becoming less and less sure of his and Harold's plans and actions… And that was okay with him. So long as he could get enough of her trust to last to the murder plan… He was sure he could get her out of here…

The three exited the jailroom.

* * *

Heading up to the bedrooms, Tyson and Harold discussing the fine art of _kidnapping people_ on the way, the tactician opened the door to his room.

"Come on inside." He frowned. "We've got a _lot_ to talk about."

Harold and Nyla walked in, and Tyson closed the door behind them…

There, they discussed their plans…

 **There were currently eighteen players in the game. Assuming each murder goes smoothly, there would be a victim, culprit, and framed for each case. This would leave room for five cases and then three last survivors, of which only two may survive…**

"So one of them may need to commit suicide." Tyson bit his thumb. "But… That sounds unlikely…"

"W-We may need a d-double murder…" Harold frowned. "A-As cruel as that is…"

Nyla grimaced. "... I-I won't have t-to do that, right…?" She stuttered, a tinge of fear in her voice.

"No." Tyson shook his head. "I already have an idea what I want you to do. I know who I want you to kill."

Nyla froze. "... Wh-who…?" It was a question that had been twisting her heart ever since Tyson mentioned that he wanted her to murder. She didn't want to kill anyone here! Whatever name Tyson gave out, she was sure she was going to panic…

"The Deserter." Tyson frowned. "We're going to make him the victim."

"..." Nyla blinked, calming down some. "... W-Wait… That weird guy in the gas mask…?"

"I don't know what he's been through." Tyson crossed his arms. "But it's pretty clear what he's done. He deserted people and is on the run. I don't know who he deserted, or why, but on the surface of things, he seems like the worst person here."

Ignoring Harold. Tyson decided not to bring that up, though. He'd much rather keep the executioner on _his_ side.

"..." Nyla grimaced. "E-Even still, that's… Cruel, isn't it…? C-Can't we ask him about what he did…?"

"We can ask him." Tyson nodded with a small frown. "And then you can decide."

Harold frowned. "H-How can we get him to, um… Answer us…?"

"All three of us will talk to him in a room, alone." Tyson tapped his foot. "I'll give you the specific details tomorrow at noon, but… The point is, I think that, if his answers are as unsavory as I believe they will be, he should die first."

Nyla grimaced. "..." She was very unnerved by how Tyson casually chose who got to live and who got to die… She had a feeling that he was disconnecting himself, trying to keep things as impersonal as possible… Or… Or maybe, he was just like Harold...

She shook her head. "So, uh… Wait. Wh-who would we frame…?"

"I still have to think about that." Tyson crossed his arms. "But I'm thinking… Patty. Nobody knows her, and the only encounter I had with her was…. Unpleasant. I can't imagine anyone believing her over you if it came down to it."

"So w-we're trading the D-Deserter and P-Patty for Nyla's escape…" Harold summed up, looking to Nyla. "A-Are… You okay w-with that…?"

"..." Nyla was grimacing, thinking to herself…

On one hand, she had a feeling these two were a _bit_ crazy. They were planning to kidnap Jeremiah to gain Rose's trust, and then they were talking about 'trading lives' and 'framing' people and… And murder… But, on the other hand, they were smart. Incredibly smart. Way smarter than her. They could get her out of here.

But did Nyla want to leave if it meant killing…?

… To be honest, yes. She still wanted to leave. She might have been scared, but she knew the value of her own life. She has had to do several underhanded things to keep herself safe in the past, such as blaming other subjects for mistakes and convincing the right person to backstab another... At her core, Nyla had a dark side to herself, a side that cared only for itself. And while she hated her selfishness at times, she knew that it was just a necessary part of who she was, and a part of her that's helped her survive for so long.

She was scared of the Deserter, and she didn't know Patty. And it wasn't as though Nyla was making the decision anymore. Tyson was the one running the show here. And it was this game, too. This game was what was forcing her to kill. Tyson told her that earlier. If she murdered the Deserter and framed Patty, it wouldn't be _her_ fault. It wouldn't be on _her_ conscience. She was just doing what she had to do to survive. Nobody would judge her… Right?

"Nyla." Tyson spoke up. "I can't guarantee your safety if you don't kill next. It's going to be dangerous to remain here longer than you have to... "

"..." Nyla bit her lip. "... I get it. It's either I do this, or I die, right?"

"It seems that way." The tactician admitted. "That's the situation we're facing here. Five people have to kill and get away with it. That's the only way for more to survive.."

"..." The subject grimaced, thinking to herself one last time…

…

She didn't want to die.

She couldn't die.

No matter what, she couldn't die. She was… She was a good person. She hadn't done anything wrong. And even if she killed, it wouldn't be her fault. It wouldn't be…

She had to survive… She just had to.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Tyson laid in his bed, letting out a small sigh. "... Harold, we just convinced a girl to commit murder."

Nyla had left a few minutes ago. She said she needed some time to think after she made her choice. Tyson decided to give her time. She was committed now, the Tactician could tell, so he didn't feel he had to be worried about her anymore.

However, he _was_ worried about himself. What had he just _done?_ Haunting thoughts were filling his head… How cruel had he become in the course of a few hours? He knew this was the only way he could save lives. He knew it. But even so, was this worth it?...

Each person who murdered to survive might end up with trauma. But even so, Tyson figured that survivors with trauma might be better than no survivors at all. And besides… They could blame all their guilt and sorrow on him. He was the mastermind of this wicked plot. Each murderer could blame him for whatever they did, because… Tyson was going to make sure each one went through with it…

Tyson would use whatever methods he had to to get what he wanted… And that's what scared him now…

"Y-Yep…" Harold sat down next to his friend, letting out a small yawn. "I-It's, um… Exciting. I guess."

"That's one word for it." Tyson deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "B-But… Don't you feel… Bad about it? Wrong? I mean… Even if this is the only way she can survive, I just…"

"Y-You said it yourself. This is the o-only way… She can s-survive…" Harold frowned, shaking his head softly. "Y-You're doing her a favor. Y-You could have chosen anyone else. W-We could be talking with B-Barry, or A-Aaron, or Nick, o-or… Anyone else. And you chose her. Y-You're letting _her_ survive."

"And I'm choosing two others to die." Tyson groaned, covering his face. "It's fucked up…! It's not right! I want _everyone_ to survive! But… Julian and Rye are fucking dead! And sixteen or seventeen others are gonna end up just like that if I don't do something..!"

"A-And that's wh-why we need you…" Harold put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Y-You might… N-Not like what you're doing, b-but… Y-You're doing it anyway. B-Because you know… I-It will save s-somebody…"

The executioner smiled. "Th-that's, um… B-Bravery, isn't it? Y-You're brave, Tyson. You're… D-Doing the right thing. I'm sure of it."

"..." Tyson looked away, but… He couldn't help but smile just a little, letting out a small sigh. "I… I guess you're right, Harold. Thanks."

Harold beamed. "N-No problem…!"

Harold was right, wasn't he? This was awful, what Tyson was doing, but it was for a good reason. If he didn't allow murderers to go free, the game would continue in a way that caused so many to die without any survivors…

He needed to do this… He needed to…

Tyson got up, checking his electroID.

 **10:20 PM.**

"Alright, Harold." Tyson sighed, looking towards his door. "Let's kidnap somebody."

"Oh boy!~"

* * *

Tyson counted the lights on the doors. Only four doors had red lights, indicating that nobody was inside. Rye's room and Julian's room were both vacant for obvious reasons… While Tyson and Harold were both outside, so, that was everyone accounted for.

"This is dangerous." Tyson bit his thumb. "We should lure him away, just in case someone comes out of their room…"

"H-How can we do that…?" Harold gulped. "Wh-what if he doesn't trust us…?"

"Well, let's see what happens." Tyson frowned, checking the map on his ElectroID. He should be in front of the right door… He pressed on the doorbell next to the ID reader, crossing his arms and waiting.

After a few moments, the door swung open, and Jeremiah was there. He had taken his black jacket off, opting for a more casual T-shirt and jeans… Did this guy wear jeans to bed? Man, he definitely deserved what was coming to him now.

… Tyson's humor had gotten pretty dark…

"G'evening…" Jeremiah gave the two a small smile. "Uh, whaddya need…?"

"Can you come with us and bring your toolbox?" Tyson frowned. "We found the trapdoor that was mentioned in the trial. We thought you might be able to break the lock with something."

"..." Jeremiah shrugged. "Sure! Hell, I can give it a shot, I've got plenty of stuff in that box Aaron gave me…" He kept the door open, heading back into his room and grabbing his toolbox off the floor beside his bed, returning to the other boys. "Alright, let's get this show on the road. Is anyone else coming with?"

"I'm gonna see if I can get Rose and a few others up." Tyson lied. "Harold can lead the way to the trapdoor."

Jeremiah nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, Harold. Maybe you can, uh… Tell me about that country you're from?"

"Sure!" Harold smiled. "R-Right this way!~"

Harold and Jeremiah went down the stairs to the foyer while Tyson walked down the bedroom hall… And then, the tactician stopped, slowly turning around with a small smirk.

He waited there for just a few seconds, hoping that nobody would come out of their room to question him, before heading down the stairs to the foyer.

Tyson had found Harold and an unconscious Jeremiah in the storage room. It took a bit of effort, but before long, they got the mechanic in the jail cell without doing much harm. Tyson checked the man's pockets, stealing his ElectroID and even finding a photograph.

"... Woah." Tyson's eyes widened. "I wonder who she is…"

The photograph depicted a pretty girl, about Jeremiah's age, sheepishly glancing down as her picture was taken. Jeremiah had his arm around her, wearing a big smile, seeming to be laughing…

"Mmm… I-I feel kind of b-bad that we're l-locking him up…" Harold admitted. "E-Especially i-if he has someone l-like that back home…"

"I'll make it up to him." Tyson sighed, putting the picture back in the mechanic's pocket. "I'll make sure he survives. It's only fair, right?"

"Mmm…" Harold nodded. "B-But… Then, there's only th-three others that can live…"

 **That was right. If all things went well, Nyla would survive this round and live… But besides her, there were four slots for surviving murderers and two slots for innocent survivors…**

"You and I have to stay in this game as long as we can, Harold, but Jeremiah's gonna need to stay as long as possible, too, to keep up the lie that he killed Rye." Tyson decided. "So the final three we need to choose to live.. They'll be coming up soon. After Nyla kills, we'll need to make another decision…"

"Mmm…" Harold frowned. "W-We'll need to f-figure out who lives and wh-who dies soon…"

"But let's cross that bridge when we get there." Tyson sighed. "We're already getting ready to kill the Deserter and Patty. I don't want to think about sacrificing anyone else right now."

Harold smiled and nodded, understanding. "R-Right... "

The executioner closed the door to the jail cell, locking it. He smiled to himself, proud of his work. "S-So, we'll have to bring him m-meals and stuff, right…?"

"Yeeaaah…" Tyson sighed. "I'll do it. I don't want him yelling at you."

"Wh-why would h-he yell…? We're s-saving him, aren't we…?" Harold blinked.

"Well, we kind of kidnapped him, Harold." Tyson deadpanned. "People don't like being kidnapped."

"O-Oh, yeah, I-I forgot…." Harold hummed. "W-Well, I'll l-leave him to you, then… D-Don't get caught coming d-down here, ever, okay?"

Tyson grinned. "I know, Harold. This is our secret."

 **The stage was officially set. Nyla was willing to murder and Jeremiah was out of the picture. No matter what happened tomorrow, Tyson felt that he had this in the bag…**

* * *

Barry Berry was the first person up that morning. The journalist took a long shower, freshened up, put on his uniform, and adjusted his hat in the mirror, grinning to himself.

Barry liked to keep this aura of confidence about himself with everything he did. He was a bit of a doofus, and he understood that, but he knew he could pull great feats when it counted. That was how he'd become such a great reporter, after all. He found stories nobody had dared to tackle and went at them with dedication nobody had ever seen from a guy his age…

Adjusting his tie, Barry frowned in the mirror. There was something that bothered him about this whole thing, though. The fact that _she_ was here…

Julian was terminally ill and didn't seem like a bad kid while he was alive. He hadn't known Rye for the life of him. But people like the Deserter and Harold made Barry think that perhaps this 'game' had mostly crooks, and that was why it was happening to begin with. The journalist snickered to himself; he could understand why someone would want him dead. He had escaped from death's jaws more than once in his lifetime. But the fact that a certain woman was here seemed to seal this theory for Barry… He knew one of these dames, and he knew what they'd done all those years ago.

But even still, Barry felt nothing but sympathy for that person. She didn't deserve this. Nobody did. Maybe Harold did, Harold didn't seem right in the head. But Barry had the feeling that, whoever was doing this, thought that, perhaps, everyone here deserved this fate. So all the reporter could do now was test that theory. He figured the best place to start would be to start asking around, getting stories and seeing if anyone else here wasn't a particularly _good_ person. It was a start, dammit… A lead! And Barry Berry always followed leads.

He exited his room, glancing around the hallway with a small, confident smile. Huh. Seems like three people were out already… Ah, wait, no. Two of them were dead. So only one person was out. Checking his ElectroID, the journalist found that Jeremiah was the one out of his room already… Alright, that was a start! Barry could ask some questions of the resident mechanic. He went down the stairs, deciding to start looking for him.

"Hey hey hey!" Barry was stopped in the foyer, noticing the monochrome bear he had quickly learned to hate. "Just wanted to let you know the door on the left side of the hallway is open! Feel free to explore to your heart's content!~"

"Did you give that same line to Jeremiah, too?" Barry frowned. "Hmm… He's probably exploring…"

"Huh? Jeremiah?" Monokuma tipped his head, confused. "Ooooh.. I see... ! Upupupupu…"

"...?" Barry was confused. "Yeah, Jeremiah. Tough guy with the jacket, seems like a kind fella? Did he not pass through here?"

"Oh, this is golden…" Monokuma snickered to himself. "Upupup… Have fun exploring, weirdo!"

The bear disappeared from the foyer, and Barry was left to consider what just happened. Why was Monokuma acting so strange…? Was there something wrong with Jeremiah? Shaking his head, the journalist turned around, checking out the door with the submachine gun mounted above it…

… And finding a toolbox on the floor right next to the exit.

"..." Barry pressed down on his hat, eyes widening as he made some connections. "... Oh shit… Shit shit shit…"

Did Jeremiah leave somehow? How was that possible? Barry thought that the whole 'chosen culprit' thing from last night was suspicious and all, but, surely Julian was the killer, right? He confessed, and Jeremiah had an alibi for most of the time…

No, now wasn't the time to stand around, questioning things. Now was the time for getting answers! Barry rushed out of the hallway, calling out Jeremiah's name…

After checking the dining hall, kitchen, hallway, storage room, ballroom, and lounge without any results, Barry decided to go through the newly-unlocked door, stepping out into a garden.

"What?" He put his hand over his eyes, providing some much-needed shade as a bright light hit his eyes… But after stepping out into the room and letting his eyes adjust, Barry realized that this room simply _looked_ like an outdoor garden, with a high ceiling and a bright light on the ceiling. There were plenty of plants around here and even a stone fountain in the center of the room, but nothing terribly interesting. He did make note of some windows that seemed to be higher up that he might be able to reach if he got a ladder…

Or a stepladder. Which one was it, again…?

Shrugging, he glanced around to notice that he had two options for where to go next. He could go to the left and go through a plain white door, or he could go straight ahead through a plain black door.

Color-coded for convenience, apparently. At least the garden itself wasn't black and white, though now that Barry got another look around, he noticed that most of the flora was black and white… Damn. Well, there was some green in there, so the reporter would take his small, colorful victories.

He decided to move through the white door first, finding himself in a small study. There were some bookshelves filled with encyclopedias and other boring nonsense that Barry wouldn't bother to read. He did a quick flip through some of the books, though, seeing if there was anything interesting… And he found nothing. Damn. He was hoping he'd find a secret switch or something neat like that.

There was a big desk at the back with one of those rotating leather chairs. Barry smirked to himself, sitting down on the chair, leaning back, and crossing one leg over the other.

"Oh, yeah. I'm the big boss of this town now, gang!" He laughed to himself, putting his feet up on the desk, keeping his legs crossed as he adjusted his hat, grinning to himself. "Ah… Never hurts to have a little fun on the job…"

After spending a minute relaxing and thinking to himself, Barry got his feet off the table, deciding to search through the desks… And, interestingly enough, he found a couple of articles inside. Putting them down on the desk, the reporter grimaced as he realized what they were about…

 **YOUNG WOMAN LOSES PARENTS TO CLINICAL DEPRESSION**

 **TERMINALLY ILL YOUNG MAN INSPIRES SICK CHILDREN**

Reading through these articles was like a punch in the gut to Barry. The first was clearly about Rye Titan, and about how she used her talent as a seamstress as a small ray of hope, trying to live her life in spite of her parents' suicides…

Then the next was about Julian Grendel, and all that he did for the kids at his hospital...

Well, that's one theory blown out of the water. Barry had thought that they had been locked up in here because the captor thought they were bad people, but it was clear that the mastermind (or masterminds) thought of Rye and Julian as sympathetic individuals… So why? Why were they being forced to play this game?

It was possible that, since Julian was going to die soon anyway, he was put in here as a pawn, but that pawn went and murdered someone, so it just… Didn't make any sense…

Barry sighed, rubbing his temple. Whatever, he couldn't make sense of it right now, but he'd figure it out eventually. He stuffed the two articles into his pocket, deciding that he'd share it with the rest of the gang later. Right now, he had to continue exploring. He had to find Jeremiah, too! But the mechanic seemed rather elusive this morning…

Barry went through the black door next, finding himself in another large hallway. At the end of the hallway was a large door that read 'SALVATION' on it in blood…

Oh, yeah, that was… That definitely made Barry feel comfortable, yep. Mhm. Never felt better in his damn life.

He knew it was silly, but Barry always found himself kind of scared when it came to things like religion and salvation. He never knew what was a truth and what was a lie, and he couldn't be sure that, if there was a God out there, they were approving of whatever he was doing at any given time. Barry found himself feeling small and helpless whenever he considered that there's something much more important than himself out there, watching over him, making sure he didn't screw things up or whatever. And so, religious imagery and traditions always scared the heck out of him.

So when he walked down the long hallway and tried the door, he let out a sigh of relief as he found it completely locked… But that meant there wasn't much else to these new areas. Just a garden, study, and ominous hallway of deathly doom. Fun.

However, all of this worried Barry. After all this exploration, he still hasn't found Jeremiah… He frowned to himself, heading back. Surely he just didn't check somewhere… Or maybe Jeremiah was spending the night in someone else's room?

… Phew. Damn. Jeremiah's a player. Barry should've known.

* * *

Tyson Jin got ready for a day of murder.

It was about 9:20 AM right now. He had just a bit over two hours to plan the demise of one of his peers, run it by Harold and Nyla, and then he had to pull it off later. That was a hefty task, but Tyson felt confident in his abilities. The Deserter would most certainly die today. He would be the first sacrifice in Tyson's plan.

The tactician flinched at that thought. What had _happened_ to him? Just yesterday, he was pretty alright with everyone here, but now he was running through fucking _murder_ plans. He knew this was the only way to help people survive, and yet…

Whatever. Tyson couldn't keep thinking so pessimistically. He had to get out and start socializing. And plotting murder. Both very normal things for a young man like himself to be doing.

Stepping outside his room, he glanced around for a moment, noticing Conchordia at the end of the hall, seemingly pondering something to herself.

"Good morning… Conchordia Flight, right?" Tyson smiled, walking up to her. "Something on your mind…?"

"..." Conchordia smirked devilishly, flipping her orange hair and putting her hands on her hips. "You're a strange one, Tyson Jin…"

"Uh, what…?" Tyson blinked, instantly confused, but Conchordia just giggled, putting her hand over her lips as she shook head gently, keeping her elegant appearance as she moved her hand over her chest.

"A murder, trial, and death occurs before my very eyes yesterday, and you wonder if there's anything on my mind…" She smiled. "I wonder if there's anything on _your_ mind, Mr. Tactician. Any plans you'd like to share?"

Tyson wasn't sure what it was about Conchordia, but something about her made him feel both at ease and tense at the same time. She had a juxtaposed aura… "I don't have anything specific right now… But if I get any ideas, I'll be sure to let you know."

"I'll keep an eye out for you, then~" She grinned, clasping her hands together. "Now, shouldn't we go downstairs for breakfast? I'm famished."

Tyson had to wonder why Conchordia was standing around here when she was hungry, but he waved that thought off. She was strange, it could have been for any reason. "Alright, let's go." He smiled, turning around and leading the way downstairs. Conchordia smirked to herself, following along.

* * *

Arriving at the dining hall, Tyson and Conchordia found that they were actually relatively early. There weren't many people here, though those that were seemed anxious…

Barry, Lola, Terry, Nick, Aaron, April, Arthur, and Georgia were all sitting around the dining hall's table. There was a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen, indicating that someone was in there, making something for the group.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" Tyson smiled, taking his seat at the end of the table. Conchordia sat down in the same seat she was at least time, between Barry and Rose's spots.

"Jeremiah's missing." Terry grimaced. "W-We think he might of, um… Found a way outside the manor…"

"He must have won the trial." Aaron growled. "That's the only way! I mean, for fuck's sake, we've looked around here twice already-"

"Calm yourself, Aaron! We're not exactly the best seekers, as that Rye incident has proven." Arthur frowned, gauging how the room went a bit tense at the mention of the 'Rye incident'. "He could still be in the manor."

Tyson was super surprised at how easy this was, holy shit. Everyone already assumed Jeremiah left the manor, just because he went missing and Tyson put his toolbox near the front door! Granted, that was pretty damning evidence, but he was getting excited that it all was seemingly working without any problems. "So… Jeremiah might have been the killer after all?"

"After all?" April scoffed. "You sound like you were suspecting it… But Julian confessed!"

"Ah, yes, a terminally ill man who died literally minutes after his confession… Let us trust his word, and not assume he had spent the last moments of his life saving another." Conchordia smirked. "I quite like this idea, actually. I don't believe someone like Julian would have murdered so easily."

"But someone like ally Jeremiah would!?" Nick grimaced. "He was a part of our alliance! We trusted him! I trusted him!"

"And some of us chose to trust Julian." Lola sighed. "It's unlikely, but it's not impossible. Jeremiah's clearly not inside the accessible parts of the manor. I even checked the trapdoor, and it's still locked."

Tyson did his best not to laugh at that remark. Ah, this was going so beautifully!

"If it matters…" Barry coughed, a serious expression on his face. "But I think Julian didn't commit that murder. I think he was innocent."

"What!?" April snapped. "Are you kidding me? It was proven and everything! Tyson proved it!"

"I'm open-minded." Tyson admitted. "Barry, what's your proof?"

Barry dug two pieces of paper out of his pocket, throwing them into the center of the table. They were the two articles they had found earlier…

"Julian was a good fella." The journalist frowned. "Rye was a lonely damsel. It just doesn't sit right with me that Julian would wack her."

"Where did you find those?" Lola became immediately suspicious of Barry, frowning and glaring at him. Barry offered a small grin in return.

"In the study." He crossed his arms. "Looks like whoever's doing this wanted to give us a couple of mementos."

Terry shuddered, flicking his wrist. "Th-that's just… Horrible… They're taunting us, a-aren't they…?" He stuttered some now, having lost whatever confidence he might have had yesterday, still broken up over the death of his friend.

Tyson sighed. "... So there's a real chance that Jeremiah did it…"

Georgia wrote something down, passing it to her brother, who smiled and passed on the point to their peers.

"There's a chance that Jeremiah did it, but, what does that mean for the rest of us? Doesn't this mean that innocents die?" Arthur crossed his arms. "And, what of the method? How did he get Rye's body to appear in the storage room?"

"He could have killed her in the foyer, hid her there, and during the panic, place Rye into the storage room before anyone else arrived." Conchordia suggested. "It would have been risky, but with some tight bandages and quick movement, it wouldn't have been _impossible._ "

Conchordia was being surprisingly helpful here. Tyson rose an eyebrow, but shrugged, deciding not to question this. Having someone other than himself or Harold arguing for Jeremiah's guilt was helpful.

"Then what of the 'innocents die' clause?" Arthur grimaced, adjusting his cravat. "D-Does that mean… We've lost?"

"We're all still alive." Aaron sighed. "So that rule must've been referring to Julian. He was innocent, he died."

"So, gang, it looks like we were duped." Barry frowned, lowering the rim of his hat to hide his disheartened expression. "Not much of a way around it…"

Nick sighed. "I-I can't believe it… Half of our alliance, gone so soon… You won't leave me, will you, ally Aaron?"

"I'm planning on sticking around as long as I can, big guy." Aaron gave Nick a small smile. "Don't worry about it."

This reassured the swordsman somewhat, but the air in the dining hall was still tense. This whole 'Jeremiah was the culprit and Julian was innocent' theory had brought the mood down so low that, when Rose arrived out of the kitchen, smiling and humming to herself, it was an intense contrast to the depressing atmosphere.

"Alright, I made pancakes!" She beamed, putting her hands on her hips. "Who's hungry?"

The room was silent.

"... I'm hungry." Terry raised his hand awkwardly, blinking.

Rose seemed to have an idea of what was going on. "Please don't tell me you guys are buying that 'Jeremiah was the culprit' theory…" She sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm a judge! I know that my decision was right! Julian was the killer."

"You only 'knew your decision was right' because Tyson guided you to that decision by the hand." Conchordia giggled. "I don't believe there's much weight in that argument…"

"Woah." Terry whistled. "Harsh…"

Rose glared, balling her hands into fists. "I… What, did you expect _perfection_ from me? I could have sworn Aaron was the killer! How was I supposed to go through all those mental gymnastics when I was _freaking out about how someone died!?_ "

Aaron coughed. "Thanks for reminding me that you almost executed me over a mistake. Really. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. By which I mean _fuck you._ " He glared.

"You're not getting any pancakes." Rose pointed and glared.

"I'm just saying that, because we were all… 'freaking out'..." Conchordia put a finger to her lips, smiling brightly. "We might not have noticed the true culprit."

This was getting suspicious. Tyson thought his plan would work, sure, but he didn't think it would work _this well._ Conchordia seemed to have already bought it completely, Barry was more or less on her side, and everyone else was slowly being converted to the idea that Jeremiah had left the building. The tactician couldn't help but think that he might be getting some assistance, but, he wasn't sure how, or by who…

"..." Rose scoffed, rolling her eyes. ".. But.. I-If Jeremiah _is_ the culprit, that… That means we voted for an innocent man! Julian died because of us!"

"Technically he died because of natural causes." April shrugged. "Not our faults. He would've dropped dead anyway."

"Do you have any tact? Whatsoever?" Lola sighed, rubbing her temple. "You're talking about a dead friend."

"I didn't know the guy." April shrugged. "I don't care what that article says or what any of you say. All I know about him is that he might have helped a killer get set free. I'll disrespect him all I want."

"Uh, so, off topic, I know, but…" Terry coughed nervously, hitting his wrist against the wall behind him. "How about… We all just eat some pancakes and chill? Yeah?"

"I was told I wasn't getting any pancakes." Aaron deadpanned, getting out of his seat. "So I'll be leaving. I don't want to stick around a woman who tried to get me executed."

"..." Rose glared, crossing her arms. "Go then. Nobody wants you here."

"I want him here." Nick frowned. "Ally Rose, you're acting out. This kind of behavior is unnecessary in such a tense environment!"

"Don't worry about it, Nick, I'll find something to eat later." Aaron waved it out, exiting the room, adjusting his gloves. "I'm gonna go search for Jeremiah again."

Nick got up from his seat, following. "Then I shall join you!"

Rose sighed, rubbing her temple as the two left. "... God, this sucks…"

"Well, the good news is that, if Jeremiah really _is_ outside the manor, he might be able to go and fetch us some backup." Barry tried to change the subject away from that awkward mess of an interaction. "We can wait here until we get some help, gang! Isn't that good news?"

"Unless Monokuma gives us another motive that forces us to kill soon." Lola sighed. "In which case, we're fucked."

"I'm with Barry on this." Tyson finally found his chance to speak up. "I was thinking of some, um… Other plans… But now that we know Jeremiah has escaped, our best option now is to wait and prevent any murders. If Monokuma gives us a motive and a murder occurs, we'll find the culprit and continue."

"..." Rose smiled a bit. "So… At least _you're_ learning to ditch ridiculous ideas, Tyson. Thank goodness…"

Perfection. Rose was so stressed and agitated over Aaron and Nick leaving, that Tyson pretending to be back on Rose's side was a bait that was easily taken. Tyson felt like a goddamn mastermind right about now. But just because he was back on Rose's good side didn't mean he had complete power. Now he just had to wait and figure out how to go about this murder plan of his…

"Wait, what 'ridiculous idea'?" April frowned, crossing her arms.

Oh. Oh no.

"Nothing. It was nothing." Tyson looked to Rose. "Just some embarrassing outburst of mine."

He had a pleading look on his face, doing his best to act as though it was just some _embarrassment_ and not a declaration of his intent to get away with murders for the rest of the game. Rose shrugged with a small smile.

"Tyson was just panicking after the trial." Rose waved it off. "I mean… After Julian died in front of us… I know _I_ was freaking out."

"Man, I felt so screwy I had to wrap myself up like a cocoon in my bed just to keep myself from twisting and turning like a madman!" Barry laughed. "We've all had a rough day yesterday, right, gang? Let's just try to fix it with some breakfast! Rose, you made pancakes, right?"

"Y-Yeah..!" Rose grinned. "Let's just eat some pancakes."

"That's what I said…" Terry sighed, but was ignored.

Soon, the whole table was chatting away, eating pancakes and forgetting the terrible experience from yesterday. The rest of the players filtered in, including Dru, Harold, the Deserter, Nyla, Hannah, and even the elusive Patty Silvers; though she only glared at everyone, took some pancakes and left.

That was a problem, actually, Tyson realized. If Patty continued this behavior, she would stay inside her room and skip the trial again… Which would kill her _and_ Jeremiah. He frowned, looking to the Deserter, who had just sat down and wondered how the hell he was going to eat pancakes with a gas mask on.

"Hey, Deserter…" Tyson frowned. "Are you any good at, uh… Pickpocketing?"

"Pretty damn good." He adjusted his gas mask. "It's a skill you get when you look as cool as this."

"You look like a freak!" April shouted from the other end of the table.

"It's an _aesthetic!_ Fuck you!" The Deserter scoffed, crossing his arms. "So, why do you ask?"

"Well… If Patty stays in her room all the time, it'd be bad news for the rest of us, right?" Tyson frowned. "She could stay unaccounted for all the time… She could even commit a murder and easily get away with it by saying "I was in my room again". I don't trust her."

"It's true that she's a bitch." Dru scoffed. "But what's pickpocketing going to do?"

"Let's have the Deserter steal her ElectroID." Tyson nodded. "That way, she has to be outside with the rest of us, and we can talk to her."

"That's forcing someone out of their room…" Barry bit on his pen. "... But, it's not like it's not necessary. As it is, we don't know the first thing about the dame! She could easily get away with a murder."

"I'm not against it." Rose admitted. "She called me a 'stuck-up bitch' yesterday for ringing her doorbell and trying to get her to the trial room. She could stand to spend some time with us."

"The more you talk about her, the more I _don't_ want to spend time with her…" Terry coughed, nervous. "And wouldn't stealing something from her just make her angrier…?"

"Hell, I'm willing to do it!" The Deserter grinned. "Nothing makes me happier than pissing jerks off. But she might just hide in a corner instead."

"So long as she's not in her room." Tyson quipped. "And not a threat to us."

Now he had just gotten his planned murder victim to steal from his planned murder frame. Excellent.

People finished up breakfast and began going their separate ways. It was about 10:30 AM by this point, giving Tyson some time to think before the noon meeting with Harold and Nyla.

* * *

Tyson laid down in the lounge, considering a murder plan to himself.

It would be best to go after the Deserter after Patty's ID has been stolen, of course, to create a motive for Patty to go after him. Then, if Tyson could just get the Deserter, Nyla, and Harold alone in a room, he could pass the dagger in his pocket to Nyla and allow her to do all the work.

But he'd need more ways to frame Patty. Just saying "she had a motive to be there" wasn't quite good enough. He'd need more ways to make the girl he'd never met look suspicious. He could forge a dying message? No, he'd rather make the death instantaneous if possible. Have Nyla cut his neck or something. That's more humane.

Phew, 'humane'. A murder, humane. Tyson was really going off the deep end now, wasn't he? He grimaced, wondering if he was losing his sanity…

No. No, this was for the good of the group. Seven people surviving was much better than two or one people surviving. Tyson was doing a good thing, dammit…

So… How to frame Patty? She was the Ultimate Gardener. It was possible to mess with the garden somehow… Tyson had heard there was a garden and study recently unlocked…

Maybe he could do something involving the garden, but he'd have to get a better look at it…

Exiting the study, Tyson walked into the garden to find Aaron and Nick there. Tyson actually hadn't seen them since they left the breakfast table… He felt kind of bad for them, actually. That alliance plan of theirs got fucked up _real_ fast.

Granted, part of that was Tyson's fault, but…. Right, even the narration doesn't have an excuse for this. Tyson let out a sigh, walking over to the two, who were examining some of the flora.

"Hey." Tyson smiled. "What's going on?"

"I'm trying to figure out what kind of flowers these are." Aaron let out a small 'tsk', annoyed as he examined what seemed to be a white lily. "There was a book on flora in the study. Nick has it now."

Nick was flipping through the pages, frowning. "... I don't understand what any of this means!"

"As you can tell, I have the best of help with me." Aaron deadpanned.

Tyson scratched the back of his neck. "So… Why do you care about what kind of flowers these are…?"

Aaron shrugged. "If they're anything special, I might be able to make some medicine out of them… Provided I can find the right equipment. It's a long shot, but, it gives me something to do."

"And it gives _me_ something to do, too!" Nick grinned. "Oh! Aaron, I think I found it! Is it this one?"

Aaron looked at the page Nick was pointing to. "Nick, friend… That's a pink lily." He sighed, pushing his glasses up, mildly annoyed.

"Oh." Nick sighed. "That makes more sense… Sorry!" He rubbed the back of his neck, giving it another shot.

Nick couldn't tell the difference between white and pink?... Tyson considered this for a moment, but thought it best not to bring it up. It was possible it was an honest mistake. But that information may prove useful in the future.

"So, um… About Rose…" Tyson coughed, trying to shift the subject.

Aaron shrugged. "Don't trust her for the life of me. Though, of course, I am a little _biased._ "

Nick pointed his sword up to the heavens. "I agree with ally Aaron! Rose Major is not to be trusted! It was thanks to ally Tyson's logic that we found the killer!"

"..." He lowered his sword. "Er… Or… Did we…?" The swordsman sighed, depressed. "Ally Jeremiah… He betrayed us, didn't he…?"

Tyson nodded his head. "... I'm sorry that your, uh, 'alliance', didn't turn out well…"

Aaron scoffed. "Last time I try anything like that again… But, I got a friend out of it, so I guess it wasn't _all_ bad."

Nick grinned. "Absolutely!" He spanked his metallic chestplate, pointing his sword to the heavens. "We have forged a bond in hellfire that cannot be broken!"

"... Nick, you dropped my flora book."

"Whoops!"

Tyson smiled. "Well, uh… I'd better get going. You two have fun."

With that, the tactician waved and left, checking his ElectroID. It was nearly noon… Time to go to the bedroom hall.

* * *

Tyson moved into his room with Nyla, Harold, and everyone's favorite friend, Monokuma.

"Why does the teddy bear have to be with us…?" Nyla grimaced, keeping as far away from Monokuma as possible.

"I'll have you know I'm a _real_ bear!" Monokuma grinned, pointing his claws at Tyson. "Just as dangerous as the real thing! Just try me! Upupupupupu!~"

"He's here to make sure our plan can work within the confines of his rules." Tyson frowned. "He's the 'host' of this game, after all. If I plan something he doesn't like, I can change it."

"Plus, I asked to be here!" Monokuma laid down on Tyson's bed. "I wanna see this _happen!_ A murder before I even give out the second motive… This is the gooood stuff… The real despair…"

"I-Ignoring him…" Harold smiled. "Wh-what was your plan, Tyson…?"

Tyson smirked. "Well… Here's the idea…"

He began explaining his plan…

* * *

The Deserter snickered to himself, holding Patty's ElectroID in his hand. "What a sucker!~"

Moving to the garden, he glanced around for a few moments before shrugging and heading into the study. He figured he'd hang out in there for a bit… If anyone entered, he could put his feet up on the desk and act like the badass he very clearly was.

What the Deserter didn't notice, though, was Harold, putting a white flower in a pot. He left the trowel and gloves he was using near the spot he dug up the flower, a small smile on his face as he whistled, giving the signal for Tyson and Nyla to come out of hiding.

"Dammit…" Tyson walked out of the bushes. "Did he really have to come in while we were setting up the scene…?"

"I'll k-keep an eye on the h-hallway…" Harold frowned. "But, um, I-I might not be a-able to keep anyone out. H-Hurry, okay?"

"I-I can't believe we're about to this…" Nyla took a deep breath, holding onto the white knife Tyson had given her. "W-We're still going to talk to him, first?"

"Of course." Tyson frowned, entering the study. Nyla kept her dagger behind her back, following the tactician inside…

"Ah, hello Tyson. Nyla." The Deserter was, sure enough, sitting at the desk in the back of the room, his feet up on the desk as he leaned back, hands behind his head, acting like the boss of some big company. "How may I be of service?"

"Did you get the ID from Patty?" Tyson frowned, crossing his arms. The man in the cloak and gas mask held up the girl's ID, laughing.

"It was easy. She's a real east target." He snickered. "Just needed to knock her out with my bat and I grabbed it off of her reallll easy."

"..." Tyson's eye twitched. "You did _what._ "

The Deserter held up his pretty pink baseball bat. "Knocked her out. Took her ID. Left. What's wrong?"

"That isn't _pickpocketing_ , that's mugging!" Tyson groaned. "You… Fucking idiot!"

"Eh, I never was good at pickpocketing." The man in the gas mask shrugged, deftly dodging the issue.

Tyson was getting pissed. "You _said_ you were!" Dammit, if Nyla wasn't the one with the knife, he might've gone for the Deserter himself. He knocked out Patty, thereby ruining the one person Tyson wanted to frame for this… If anyone found Patty and tried to help her, she would have an alibi!

"Oh, I lied." The Deserter shrugged. "But I've still got her ID! What's it matter?"

"Y-You still hurt her… For no reason…" Nyla bit her lip, glaring at him. "... D-Did you do that to whoever you 'deserted', too?"

"..." The Deserter went silent. "... Hey. Don't talk to me like that, alright?" He got his feet off his desk, crossing his arms. "I didn't hurt anyone."

"Yeah, sure you didn't." Tyson scoffed, beginning to walk over to the Deserter. "You're called "The Deserter" because you make good desserts."

"You caught me. That's my real ultimate talent. I make a mean fucking sundae." The Deserter deadpanned, only to find Tyson coming up on his left side, pissed. "... What're you gonna do, tough guy, huh? Kill me? You can't do that here. Nyla'll know you did it, and you'll die."

The man behind the gas mask seemed to be glaring at Tyson. Tyson didn't care. Nyla was getting closer.

Tyson grabbed The Deserter by the mask, pushing his head into the chair. He kept a hand on the other man's shoulder, keeping him still as he glared down at him.

"Who did you desert?" The tactician glared. "I need to know."

"..." The Deserter let out a small chuckle. "T-Tyson, buddy... What's the big deal? I, uh, didn't know you were so _interested_ in me. Could've taken me out to dinner first…"

"Tell me, asshole." Tyson hissed. "Did they die? Did they die because you deserted them?"

"..." The Deserter sighed, not willing to put up much of a fight over this. "I was in the army. Twenty-second division. I was on the ground in some third-world country, fuck if I remember the name, when we got ambushed. I ran. Ran as fast as I fucking could. Can you blame me? I didn't want to fucking be there. But it's 'tradition' in my family or some shit… I fucking hate my family."

"How many people died?" Tyson kept the Deserter still in that chair. "Tell me."

The other man laughed. "I don't fuckin' know! But _one less_ man died! 'Cause I ran! I mean, honestly, Tyson, there was no way in hell I was going to stay there and let myself get killed…"

"How many people?" The tactician hissed. "You know! You know, and you're just fucking with us!"

"..." The Deserter glared. "Thirty-two-"

That was when it happened.

Tyson pushed the Deserter's head up, revealing his neck just below his gas mask. Nyla came up from behind, putting her dagger to his throat.

 _Slice._

That was all it took. That was all it took for Tyson to start seeing red. Red with white steel… Tyson's eyes widened as he realized he hadn't given the command for that. Nyla had done it all on her own.

Tyson had officially participated in the murder of another human being. He felt sick to his stomach. The foul stench of blood was already hitting him hard, and yet, he managed not to let his emotions get the better of him… He had to stay calm… He had to continue with this. It was done, and that was that. Nyla's life was now on the line...

"I…" Nyla backed away, grimacing. The bloody knife was still in her hand. "... I can't believe it… He…"

"It's okay, Nyla." Tyson acted fast, letting go of the struggling Deserter, letting him fall over onto the ground, bleeding out. "You did the right thing. You're safe now."

"He…" Nyla sniffled. "... He hurt my brother." She hugged herself, shivering.

"..." Tyson stood, stiffening. "... What…?"

"Third world country… Twenty-second division... Someone deserting thirty-two people…" Nyla bit her lip. "I-It matches up… Wh-what my brother had to go through… H-He got abandoned, and… H-He was the only survivor… I-I had to do… S-so much to help h-him afterwards…"

Her eyes were full of hatred. "... That… That _fucker_ … I'm… I'm so glad I got to kill him… I got to take the life of the man who left my brother for dead…" She glared, furious.

"..." Tyson backed away a little bit. "... Are you going to be okay, Nyla…?"

"..." She sniffled, shaking her head. "... I-I'm going outside… T-Take the knife, Tyson. D-Do whatever the plan was. I-I need to leave."

She gave Tyson the knife, immediately rushing out of the room, sniffling.

The tactician was shocked. Nyla had a connection to the Deserter? He had left the squad that her brother was in… And her brother was the only survivor. Perhaps, if the Deserter had stayed, more would had lived?

He could only assume that Nyla's brother had PTSD. That was what Nyla implied by her having to 'help him'... But, the way that she just… _Killed_ him… It suggested a deeper inner rage. A trigger just waiting to be activated.

Tyson wondered if Nyla's brother was still alive…

Deciding that was a topic he'd rather not think about, Tyson went to work. He began taking cuts at the Deserter's body. He even used his own dagger, which he had gotten yesterday, to cut into the Deserter's mask…

 **Tyson had to make it look like there was somewhat of a struggle. Patty couldn't kill the Deserter instantly without help. Better yet, by using a clean knife to make the mark in the mask, Tyson could make it look like Patty tried to sneak up on him, but failed a cut because he was wearing his gas mask.**

Tyson left the bloody dagger on the table. Then, he checked the Deserter's signature pretty pink baseball bat, noticing some blood on it… Dammit. Snarling to himself, Tyson took out a cloth and did his best to clean any trace of the blood. He pocketed the bloody-and-sparkly cloth, deciding to get rid of it in his room later. Afterwards, he left to go get Harold, who should have the potted flower…

And in the garden he found Harold, an unconscious Patty, and Nyla.

Yeah, this was going downhill real fast, wasn't it?

"Harold, how did you find her!?" Tyson's eyes widened.

"Sh-she was in the hallway… L-Laying there…" Harold bit his lip. "N-Nyla told me… The Deserter hit her?"

Tyson checked Patty. She was still breathing, but she had a nasty mark on the back of her head… Dammit! It'd be hard to explain that away in a class trial. 'Oh, you see, the culprit just hit themselves really hard over the head! And that's what happened!'...

….

Oh shit. _Oh shit._ Tyson could make that happen.

"We can make it look like she hit herself." Tyson frowned, taking two fingers to Patty's wound, collecting some fresh blood. "I've got an idea. Harold, come with me, bring Patty. Nyla, can you bring the potted plant?"

"I-I'll leave it just inside the room…" Nyla grimaced. "But… I'm not going back in there with that _fucker._ " She shivered, hugging herself.

Well, at least Nyla wasn't having any regrets? Tyson would take that as a victory. But he needed Nyla as calm as possible for the class trial. So far, there was absolutely nothing pointing to her, and the tactician wanted to keep it that way.

Tyson moved into the study with Harold. Harold placed Patty's unconscious body on the floor, Nyla left the potted plant just inside the room, and Tyson began playing blood finger-painting.

Yes. Blood finger-painting. This was something Tyson never thought he'd have to do in his life. Either way, he began placing Patty's blood on top of one of the bookshelves. He looked at the books stored, noticed that more of them were color-coordinated, and smirked to himself. Excellent…

 **The first most obvious suspect for this murder would be, right off the bat, Nick. He's strong, strong enough to overpower the Deserter easily, and that straight cut on the Deserter's neck, alongside the other wounds, may make a swordsman look suspicious. Therefore, by making it look like the culprit knocked over a bookshelf to hurt someone, before putting the bookshelf back up and reorganizing everything…**

 **Right. Nick couldn't do that, so he'd be proven innocent. So if all the framing worked, the conclusion that Patty did this herself could be reached...**

"So y-you're going to make it l-look like she m-made the bookcase f-fall on her?" Harold hummed. "Th-that's risky… B-But, if i-it works, sh-she'd be voted for sure…"

Tyson smirked. "Exactly why it's a good plan… Now, let's bring her back outside. Hide her in some bushes. Once she wakes up, we'll take some people to the study and 'discover' the body."

The tactician picked up the potted flower, moving it just a few feet further into the room…

 **The story would be easy. Patty was doing some gardening. The Deserter steals her ElectroID, but she notices, and takes her potted plant and knife, coming after him. He doesn't notice. Patty realizes this is the perfect moment to kill. She puts down the plant, readies her knife, and tries to kill him…**

Tyson smirked. This should be easy enough. The two exited, hiding Patty's body before checking the hallway.

"We're in the clear." Tyson frowned. "Are you two ready?... We're risking Nyla's life here. We have to make sure the trial ends how we want it to."

"W-We w-won't let th-them vote f-for Nyla!" Harold beamed. "P-Patty w-will get voted, f-for sure!"

"..." Nyla smiled softly.. "Th-thanks, you guys…"

The three left…

* * *

While waiting for Patty to wake up, Tyson had just one more evil deed to accomplish. He made a sandwich, heading discreetly into the storage room with it…

Making sure nobody was around, Tyson unlocked the trapdoor, hopping down and closing it on his way.

"HEY!" Tyson heard a yell as he entered. "Tyson! Tyson, what the hell'd you do!?"

Jeremiah was behind bars, glaring at the tactician. He was gripping at the bars, not seeming particularly seething, but… Oh, man, he had one of those 'I'm not mad, just super disappointed' expressions. Not that Tyson felt guilty at all…

"Saving your life." Tyson Jin replied with a shrug. "Here. Sandwich?"

"..." Jeremiah glared, but took the sandwich. Like hell he was going to object to food; he was starving! "Just what the hell are you planning? Why'd you lock me up in here!?"

"I needed to gain the group's trust back." Tyson shrugged. "It's a long story… But, don't worry. You'll survive. I'm not one to use a pawn without their permission and then cast them away…"

"'Pawn'? I ain't a pawn." Jeremiah snorted. "And this _isn't_ a game. But you sure as hell seem like you're treating it like one."

Tyson laughed. He couldn't help it. That was just too funny… "Ah… Jeremiah, I'm a tactician. Of course I know this isn't a game. This is life or death." He smirked. "And that's why I'm doing this. I'm making sure seven people survive…"

"..." Jeremiah just kept glaring. "... Seven…?"

"I can't save everyone." Tyson sighed. "As much as I'd like to. I can only save seven… So, you should be glad I'm saving you, right? You're one of the lucky ones…"

"I don't _want_ to be one of the lucky ones!" Jeremiah banged on the bars of his cell. "Tyson, what the fuck are you planning!? What are you doing up there!? You can't just- we could survive, Tyson! All of us!"

"No we can't." Tyson frowned. "I already know what this is, Jeremiah. We can't just sit and wait things out. It doesn't work that way."

"What in the hell are you talking about…!?"

The tactician shrugged. "Anyway… Jeremiah, if I were you, I'd be thankful. You get to go back to your girlfriend after this, don't you…?"

Jeremiah gulped. "..." He bit his lip, but still managed to glare. "Fuck you, Tyson… What… What did you do?"

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

The announcement sounded throughout the manor…

Tyson smirked. "That. I did _that_ , Jeremiah."

"... You're insane." The mechanic gasped. "You're… You're completely insane… You killed someone!?" He was doing his best to keep himself calm… But Jeremiah was shaking, scared for his life and for the lives of the people above him.

"'Not exactly." Tyson frowned. "Well, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow, Jeremiah. Enjoy the sandwich."

The mechanic watched him leave, slack-jawed. He couldn't believe was just happened… Tyson had lost his goddamn mind. What did he mean that they couldn't just 'sit things out'...? Worse yet, who died? Why did they die?...

The mechanic groaned, laying on his bed in the jail cell, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Well. Looks like he was staying in here for a while. Better conserve energy…

He looked up at the ceiling of his prison, wondering why this had to happen to him. Especially now, of all times, when he had felt he was finally getting his life together… He had a loving girlfriend, a job, a happy home… And now he was stuck in a killing game. Even worse, he was trapped by a psychopath within that killing game…

… He touched the photograph in his pocket. Even if the odds were stacked up against him, Jeremiah had to survive… He just had to. For Marine...

* * *

Rose Major found herself in this maddening situation for the second time in two days. She had just wanted a book from the study, but, when she arrived… She had found the Deserter, dead, in a pool of his own blood…

Luckily, she wasn't alone. Lola and Terry had come with her; traveling in groups of three seemed like the safest thing to do in a 'game' such as this one… But their tactic didn't help for long.

"H-h-he's…" Terry's eyes were wide open. He was clutching his head, shaking like a leaf. "Wh-why…!? Why is this happening!? Why us!?"

"Don't… Don't panic." Lola bit her lip so hard it was nearly bleeding. "Stay calm. We need to investigate…"

"Investigate!? H-He's… He's fucking dead! I don't want to investigate!" Terry grimaced, tears in his eyes. "Th-this isn't fair!"

"None of this is fair." Rose grimaced. "That's… That's why it's hell. We're in hell…"

The three of them heard the study door open. They turned to see Patty Silvers. Her hair was bloody and she had a deadly glare on her face.

"Who the fuck… _Did_ this to me…?" She hissed, clenching her fists. "And where is my ID…!? I'm going back to my room!"

"Holy shit, what happened to you!?" Terry flinched. "W-We need to get you some help! I'll grab Aaron-"

"No!" Patty snapped, putting her foot down, glaring at the other three. Rose and Terry took a step back, disturbed, but Lola didn't seem as easily shaken. "It was one of you, wasn't it!? I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Don't take another step." Lola glared, pointing her gun. "This thing might not be lethal, but I can sure as hell make it _hurt._ "

Patty glared, eyes nearly red with fury. "Try it, bitch-"

Lola tried it. With three shots, Patty cried out, on the ground, holding her nose. "FUCK! FUCK! WHY!? AAAAAHHH!"

"Lola!" Rose grimaced. "Wh-what did you do!?"

"Just broke her nose." Lola shrugged. "She'll be fine."

"R-Remind me _never_ to get on your bad side…" Terry shivered, hitting his wrist against the bookcase beside him as he winced, Patty's screams filling the room.

Rose sighed. "L-Lola, can you do something about her…? Terry and I can investigate…" She gulped, twirling her hair.

"I could knock her out." Lola suggested. "... Can I?"

"No." Rose sighed, pinching her temple. "We're not knocking anyone unconscious."

"But we _are_ breaking their noses…?" Terry sighed. "Th-this has gone so downhill, I don't know how it can get any worse…"

Lola kicked Patty, getting her to shut up for a second before dragging her out of the study, with the gardener kicking and screaming the whole way. Meanwhile, a few people flooded into the garden, seeing Lola dragging the screaming girl.

"Holy shit, she's loud!" Dru covered her ears. "M-Make it stop…!"

"H-Her vocal range is terrible…!" Conchordia gasped dramatically. "It is like… Hearing chalk against a blackboard…! My delicate ears!"

Rose decided to ignore the voices outside. If anything, they could all interrogate Patty, and Terry and her can get to work here. "Alright, Terry! Looks like you're my partner this time!" Rose smiled, trying to keep her spirits up.

"I-I don't remember agreeing to this…" Terry coughed, rubbing his wrist.

"Well, too bad. Let's find out who killed our friend and bring them to justice!" Rose pointed with sparkling eyes. "This time… I won't be wrong…"

"..." Terry grimaced. "Is… Is that all this is to you…? You just want to be right?"

"No! Of course not! I… I just want to make sure things end _fairly_ this time." Rose frowned, crossing her arms. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"No!"

"Goddammit Terry, just help me!"

Terry sighed, pulling out his little camera. "Fine… I'll take photos or something."

"Great!" Rose beamed. "We'll have this case solved in no time!"

 **-=INVESTIGATION START=-**

The first thing to consider was the body itself. Rose walked over to it, crouching down, grimacing as she looked at the bloody sight… It smelled awful, too… Rose almost wished she had a gas mask of her own at this rate.

Speaking of gas masks, the Deserter's was cut, just above the neck… It was clean, too, without any blood, which contrasted with the big, clean cut to his lower neck. That might have been the cause of death, but there were several cuts elsewhere… Did he get into a struggle of some sort? The room looked clean, though…

"I'm, uh, more used to photographing animals… Not dead bodies…" Terry grimaced. "Where do I even start…?"

"Take pictures of the body as a whole, the gas mask, and that cut on his neck." Rose ordered, twirling her hair. "That might be vital evidence."

Terry groaned, not wanting to take pictures of his dead friend, but… His hands were tied. If they didn't solve this, the Deserter would never get justice. "F-Fine…"

While Terry began taking photos, Rose moved to the desk of the room. There was a bloody knife on the table, seemingly coming from the lounge… She scoffed, annoyed that she likely couldn't trace this murder weapon back to anyone. The killer likely did that on purpose…

 **There appeared to be some sort of struggle, but, the killer might have cleaned that up. The knife used in the murder was sitting on the table, without a trace of who might have done this…**

"We should look for any signs that someone was hiding something." Rose frowned. "Maybe, like… A bookshelf without dust on it, or something!"

"The Deserter's bat is clean." Terry blinked, inspecting it. "There's, um… Some sparkles missing in this spot…"

"Huh?" Rose tipped her head, looking to Terry. "Uh… That's probably a coincidence, right…?"

Terry frowned. "No, it's definitely not. I got a good look at it while I was talking to him this morning… I-It was sparkly all around. Now it has a patch without sparkles."

"..." Rose bit her lip, considering this. So… Did the killer clean the Deserter's baseball bat…? Why? She shrugged it off, figuring she couldn't answer that question just yet. "Take a picture of it, Terry."

"Yes ma'am…" Terry sighed, just accepting that being bossed around by the judge was his new life now. He took a picture of the bat, marking it as evidence.

Rose took another glance around the room before noticing something. "Hey…" She picked up the potted flower. "Look, Terry! Isn't this a pretty flower?" She grinned.

"Rose, you're, uh, getting a little off-track…" Terry hit his wrist against the table, groaning.

"But this flower… I wonder…" Rose frowned. "Maybe… This points to Patty being the killer…? But isn't it too obvious?"

"It seems like an obvious frame." Terry admitted, mumbling his response. "But… Then again, she _was_ injured, and… We think there was a struggle, right?"

Rose considered this. "... I dunno…" She sighed, taking one more glance around the room. "Maybe there wasn't…? The killer could have just cut up his body…"

"Well… That's all we'll find here, then…" Terry sighed. "... I-I… I'm going to miss that guy and his weird humor and… His gas mask gimmick…"

"We'll find his killer!" Rose grinned. "We've gotta!"

The two exited the study, heading into the garden…

But they left behind one of the pieces of evidence Tyson wanted them to find. They had missed the bookcase with blood at the top…

The one thing Tyson didn't account for in his planning was that the investigators would be _incompetent._

 **-=INVESTIGATION END=-**

Tyson, Harold, and Nyla had gone to the foyer, leaving the now thirteen others in the garden.

"Nyla, are you ready?" Tyson frowned, brushing his hair with his hand, taking a deep breath. "Your life is on the line, but Harold and I will do our best to get Patty convicted."

"I'm… I'm ready." Nyla bit her lip. "I trust you guys. W-We'll win this…"

Harold beamed. "Y-Yeah! We just gotta m-make sure everyone knows that Patty's s-suspicious! I-It won't be hard!"

Tyson smirked. "We'll definitely do it. So, now-"

 **DING DONG, BING BONG~**

" **Everyone, please gather in the ballroom! The class trial will be held shortly!"**

"That wasn't an hour!" Nyla flinched. "Th-that was ten minutes, at best!"

"Monokuma…" Tyson grimaced. "He didn't give them time to investigate…"

Harold bit his lip. "A-And… W-We weren't anywhere near th-the crime scene for the investigation… W-We'll have to work off of others' knowledge…"

Tyson sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be this easy… With such a short and unfair investigation, Monokuma was likely trying to make Tyson's plan messier. But no matter. Tyson believed in his tactician skills…

He would get Patty Silvers convicted, no matter what!

* * *

Everyone had gathered in the ballroom. Even Patty, who was covering her wound with a sunflower hat, glaring at anyone who dared to look her way. She definitely hadn't earned any friends…

"I _don't_ want to be here…" She hissed, her voice a little strange… Hey, was her nose broken…? Tyson wondered when that happened.

"Well, too bad. You're a witness." Aaron rolled his eyes. "You're vital to this trial."

The room shook… This time, everyone but Patty was prepared. The gardener grimaced, screeching as she hit the ground, unprepared for the shaking...

And then, the elevator rose out of the floor, opening its doors for the players once more.

Dru sighed. "Let's go in. We don't have a choice."

She was the first to enter the elevator. Everyone else had followed, shuffling in, returning to the spaces they had used before the first trial…

The elevator closed its doors, heading down, leading these young men and women to another terrible fate.

Harold had stuck close to Tyson, hugging his halberd.

Rose was in front of the doors, looking as though she was prepared for what was to come.

Lola was by her side, examining her gun…

Hannah kept close to the likes of Dru and Nyla, trying to stay unnoticed.

Nyla tried to keep a smile on her face, but was shaking somewhat, nervous for what was to come. She knew what she had done. She had to get away with it.

Dru was staring at her compass, wondering if this elevator shifted around at all…

Nick was staying close to Aaron, as though guarding the pharmacist from harm. He seemed very disheartened...

Aaron was nearby, adjusting his gloves, frowning. He looked from person to person, examining them...

Arthur and Georgia stuck close, passing notes between each other…

Barry had a confident smirk on his face, doing his best to keep his spirits high, staying near Terry.

Terry flicked his wrist, frowning softly… He was scared of what was to come, but he wanted to face it head-on…

Conchordia stayed closer towards the back, playing with her orange hair, smirking softly.

April stuck to the side, leaning against one of the mechanical walls of the elevator, crossing her arms.

Patty tried to keep far away from everyone, scowling, very unhappy with all of this.

With all sixteen people accounted for, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened…

They all shuffled out. Tyson wasn't sure what he could do about what was coming, but he would do his best to ensure that this trial ended in a life getting saved… He couldn't allow Nyla to be found guilty.

 **-=TRIAL PREPARATION=-**

 **The Case of The Deserter**

 _Less than twenty-four hours after the first trial, another has begun. This time, one of the most mysterious players has had his life taken away… But who took it? There is only one witness testimony available for this trial, so you may have to rely on the evidence to find the truth…_

 _Oh, but you don't care about that. Your goal is to frame an innocent and get them executed. Please, twist the evidence to create unstoppable lies…_

 _Aren't you a horrible person?_

 _You're trading two lives for one… Is that really fair?_

 _Will you feel any guilt as you condemn an innocent girl?_

 _Please, do your best… Make this game as interesting as possible._

 **Jeremiah Core is… Unavailable. That's thanks to you, isn't it? He is confirmed innocent.**

 **-=TRIAL START=-**

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

The group of sixteen stood on podiums, all arranged in a circle. There were four podiums that were empty… Rye, Julian, Jeremiah, and the Deserter. Rye, Julian, and the Deserter's podiums were all burned, while Jeremiah's podium was clean.

To Tyson's right were Jeremiah Core (vacant), Harold Slayne, Dru West, Nyla Greens, Arthur York, Georgia York, Barry Berry, Patty Silvers, and Lola Elsworth.

To his left were Rye Titan (dead), Terry Holds, The Deserter (dead), Hannah Snow, April Nun, Julian Grendel (dead), Nick Icarus, Aaron Wright, and Conchordia Flight.

Straight across from him was Rose Major.

Monokuma chuckled. "Another murder!? I didn't even have to give out a motive! You kids are the best!"

"Why!?" Arthur grimaced, banging his fist against his podium. "Why did this have to happen!? Jeremiah already escaped, did he not? We could have waited for help!"

"The killer's motive will definitely be key to this case." Lola considered, twirling her gun in her hand. "But shouldn't we clear other things up, first…? Only Rose and Terry got a good look at the crime scene…"

"... B-Before that… Why do _I_ have to be the one surrounded by burnt podiums…?" Terry grimaced, the burned podiums of Rye and the Deserter flanking him on either side.

"Don't be such a wuss." Dru sighed. "What did you and Rose find in that study? Half of us don't even know how he was killed!"

"A-Ah, right…" Terry sighed. "Well, um… I have pictures! Here!"

Tyson thanked his lucky stars that Terry just so happened to have a camera. This would allow him to survey the evidence and be able to bring everything up without seeming guilty…

That was, until Terry passed the camera to him, and Tyson realized there were limited pictures.

"... The Deserter was cut up… His gas mask was cut, clean… His neck was cut, pretty badly…" Tyson described what he saw. "There's a bloody knife, looks like it's from the lounge, and… You took a picture of his stupid baseball bat?" He looked incredulously over to Terry.

"There's a clean spot on it!" Terry grimaced. "Th-the culprit wiped it clean!"

"Just keep going, Tyson." Rose sighed. The tactician shrugged, looking at the final picture…

The potted fucking plant.

Son of a _bitch._

"You don't have _anything_ else?" Tyson glared. "This is all we have to work with? A potted plant?"

"We did our best!" Rose glared, putting her hands on her hips. "Where even _were_ you during the investigation?"

"Looking for evidence around the manor!" Tyson groaned. "But clearly, _that_ was a bad idea this time."

"Now, let's not yell at each other this time." Conchordia smiled, brushing her shining orange hair. "Let's try to find something to discuss…"

"I already think I know who the culprit is!" Rose smirked, pointing. "I've got this! This time, I'll be right!"

"Oh god." Aaron groaned. "Here we go. Get ready for bullshit, everyone." He pushed up his glasses, clearly annoyed.

"Let's at least allow her the chance to speak…" Dru frowned. "What do you think, Rose?"

Tyson had a bad feeling he knew what Rose was about to do… And because he knew, it made things all the worse. He set up that bookshelf trick as a means of proving a certain someone innocent, but now, he had minimal evidence...

Perhaps the evidence wasn't what he should be using this time… Tyson frowned, trying to think of a solution…

 _Class Trial ~ Perjury_

"Nick Icarus is the most likely suspect!" Rose grinned.

"WHAT!?" Nick gripped his head. "B-But I didn't do anything!" He pointed his sword to the heavens. "I swear on my honor! I did not kill that strange man!"

"This again!?" Aaron grimaced. "Fuck you, Rose! Nobody wants to hear your bullshit!"

"Let her talk!" Lola glared. "She has substantial evidence!"

"We can't trust her!" Aaron glared. "I bet Rose did it! She killed the Deserter!"

"Th-that can't be! I was with Rose and Lola all day!" Terry frowned. "None of us did anything wrong…!"

"And I was with Nick all day!" Aaron adjusted his gloves with a smirk. "We're at a stalemate. Nick is innocent."

Nick sniffled, rubbing his eyes. "A-Ally Aaron…!"

Hannah was sniffling, too. "S-So cute…!"

"Both of you are fucking weirdos…" Dru grumbled. "Can we get a handle on this case, please? Rose, what was your reason for finding Nick suspicious?"

"Despite there clearly being a struggle in the study, there was a nice, clean cut to the Deserter's neck!" Rose pointed. "Only someone like the Ultimate Swordsman could have done that!"

"Oh, I forgot we had those ultimate titles…" April admitted, tapping her chin.

"There _is_ a pretty obvious cut on the Deserter's neck…" Conchordia smirked. "Well, Nick? Do you think you could have done that…?"

"Of course I could have done that! But I didn't!" Nick growled. "I-I have an alibi!"

"But the rules of the game allow for accomplices…" Lola reminded. "Aaron could be helping you escape with this murder."

"It's true! Only the person we vote for dies! The culprit might get away with it!" Rose pointed. "So you don't have an alibi after all!"

"And neither do you!" Tyson pointed with a glare.

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"What!?" Rose flinched. "What are you-"

"Nick might be guilty." Tyson frowned. "But you could be, too, for the same reasons. Terry and Lola could be covering for you right now!"

"Yeah! We can't trust your shitty logic!" Aaron grinned, fluffing his lab coat. "Suck it."

Georgia was humming, writing something down. She passed the note to her brother, who read it and spoke aloud.

"Then neither side can be trusted fully!" Arthur pointed. "However, Rose's logic still stands… If there was a fight in that room, Nick looks the most suspicious!"

"P-Please, wait! I wouldn't kill!" Nick grimaced, sweating in his armor.

"And I wouldn't kill, either! What the hell, Tyson!?" Rose seethed. "What are you trying to pull!?"

"I'm trying to get you to act _fair_ for once." Tyson frowned. "I don't believe Nick is guilty. One wound is not enough evidence to convict him."

"B-But…" Rose grimaced, those words hitting her like a brick. "I… I thought-"

"Y-You're wrong, T-Tyson…!" Harold objected.

Tyson was caught off-guard, turning to his right, noticing Harold giving him a small glare. What the hell…?

"Uh… S-Something wrong, Harold…?" Tyson gulped. What in the world? Why was _Harold_ of all people objecting to him…?

"N-Nick's definitely guilty…" Harold nodded. "I-I mean… I-I can explain, i-if you want…?"

The executioner smiled nervously. Tyson realized that this might be some sort of opportunity for Harold to pass along some thoughts on what to do next…

"Alright." Tyson smirked. "Give it here."

Harold was still on his side… But they had to make a show of it. They had to act as though they weren't scheming together!

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Showdown_

"R-Rose has a good point…" Harold pressed his index fingers together. "I-If there was a struggle, th-then for it to end with a big, c-clean slash… Th-that kind of calm a-and accuracy c-can only be done by a-an 'ultimate s-swordsman'!"

"A-And there w-was clearly a s-struggle… J-Just looking a-at all the Deserter's w-wounds can tell you that…" The executioner gulped.

"Wait…" Tyson shook his head. "What are you getting at?"

"Um… W-Well…" Harold bit his lip. "Y-You see… Th-there was a struggle… Th-the Deserter got hurt in s-several places, a-all without consequence… A-And then he got a big, a-accurate hit! That's… Wh-what I'm getting at. O-Only Nick could've done that. Y-Yep."

Oh, shit, it was so obvious! Tyson wanted to slap himself for being so stupid… "Harold, you're wrong! Nick couldn't have done that!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"R-Really? I a-am?" Harold smiled.

"Why are you happy about that…?" Dru sighed.

"Nick, let's say you were attacked, or were about to attack someone." Tyson turned to the swordsman. "And you have your sword at the ready. Do you think you could kill them in one hit?"

"Easily!" Nick beamed, putting his hands on his sides. "I have trained since I was little to make precise movements and take down my foes without much trouble!"

"Aha!" Aaron caught on. "So all those wounds the Deserter had… They weren't necessary for Nick! Rose is lying!"

"I-I'm not _lying_!" Rose grimaced. "I… I was…. I-I was just trying to…"

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

"Save it." Conchordia sighed. "You're useless to us again... " She twirled her hair, indifferent. "Clearly, we need to take a new approach."

"..." Rose grimaced, putting a hand to her chest. She was losing all confidence in herself...

"We should ask Patty!" Barry beamed, putting his right hand on her shoulder. "Right, dame? You were pretty involved in all this!"

"Get your hand off of me." Patty hissed. "I don't want to talk about _anything_ … I don't want to be involved in any of this!"

"Well, you better _get_ involved, or we're all gonna die..." Terry sighed. "Y-you're being stubborn for no reason…!"

Barry moved his hand, giving Patty some space. He gave her a serious look, crossing his arms. "C'mon now, dame. We need your testimony. You're the only one who can help us!"

He grinned, putting his hands on his hips. "And we'd owe you a _lot_ if your testimony helped us! Right, gang? We'd be kissing your behind for the next week!"

"..." Patty grinned at that thought. "... Fine! If you need my testimony _that_ badly, I can provide it for you…"

"Gotta hand it to the journalist: he knows how to get people talking…" April deadpanned, crossing her arms. "Alright, get started, bitch, we don't have all day."

"Don't treat me like that!" Patty slammed her hand against her podium, grinning. "I'm about to save your lives! Because I know who the killer is!"

"'What!?" Nyla, who had kept silent up until now, flinched. "What are you talking about…!?"

Tyson grimaced. Dammit, this isn't good…! Nyla looked like she was ready to start panicking…

He had to stay calm and help Nyla through this. The fate of a life was resting on Tyson Jin's shoulders…

 _Class Trial ~ Perjury_

"I had heard there was a garden… So at around one o'clock, I decided to go there." Patty frowned.

"But in the hallway, I was attacked by a man!" She glared, hands balled up into fists. "I was hit over the head and knocked out!"

"When I woke up, I was in the bushes in the garden…" She let out a 'tsk'. "But… I saw that girl walking out of the garden when I woke up!" She pointed towards Nyla.

"Wh-what!?" Nyla grimaced, hugging herself. "That's insane! I wasn't even _in_ the garden!"

"Nyla did it!?" Arthur gasped. "My word! Georgia was right, she really was impure of heart!"

Georgia smacked Arthur with her notebook, getting him to shut up.

"H-Hey! Don't talk about me behind my back!" Nyla pointed, glaring. "I… I didn't kill anyone!"

"You were attacked, you say?" Barry rubbed his goatee. "Mmm… But by who? Do you have any idea who wacked ya, dame?"

"All I know is that it was a man in a black cloak!" Patty hissed. "But that doesn't matter! I know who the killer is!"

"It _does_ matter!" Tyson pointed. "Because that's impossible!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"Wh-what!?" Patty grimaced. "What are you…!?"

"I was about to say the same thing!" Barry laughed. "Because the Deserter couldn't have knocked Patty out! He was supposed to just steal that ID, right? That fella was weird, but I'd wager he wouldn't knock a little dame like this one out!"

The fact that Barry was being useful for once was _stunning_ to Tyson.

"He might have done it in an attempt to kill her." Dru clicked her tongue. "Knock her out, take her to the study, and do her in… But he was caught by somebody…"

"That's also not possible." Tyson frowned. "If that were true… Patty would have her ElectroID right now. And I'm willing to be that, since she didn't go running to her room, she _doesn't_ have it on her right now!"

Patty flinched. "F-Fuck you! So what if I don't have my ID!? That creep must have stolen it from me when he knocked me out!"

"So he knocked you out just to steal your ID…?" Terry gulped. "I-I dunno… Doesn't seem likely…"

"He was a weirdo in a gas mask. Sounds likely enough to me." April rolled her eyes.

"I don't think he would've done it." Barry grinned. "He was strange, but not malicious, right?"

If only they knew…. But Tyson had to push this argument forwards. He needed to trap everyone in the assumption that the Deserter didn't knock Patty out…

Because if he could do that, then Patty's testimony would be discredited, and Nyla wouldn't be put under suspicion anymore!

Nyla was shaking, afraid… But there was still a battle ahead…

 _Class Trial ~ Scrum Debate_

THE DESERTER PICKPOCKETED PATTY

 _Tyson, Harold, Nyla, Terry, Barry._

THE DESERTER KNOCKED PATTY OUT

 _Patty, Dru, April, Lola, Arthur, Georgia._

"That creep _clearly_ knocked me out!" Patty was seething. "Didn't you see the wound on my head!?"

"It's possible that something else caused that wound." Barry grinned, tipping his reporter's hat to her. "There _was_ a struggle in the study, after all…"

Arthur read Georgia's notes. "The Deserter was a strange man, and not to be trusted! It's highly likely that he knocked Patty out in an effort to end her life!"

"Wh-why do it out in the open like that…?" Terry grimaced. "If it was a murder attempt… That'd be too risky!"

"Then it wasn't a murder attempt." April sighed. "But Patty's testimony still makes sense!"

"I-It doesn't!" Harold flinched. "Wh-why would the Deserter knock P-Patty out for n-no reason…!?"

"Clearly, he wanted her ElectorID!" Dru glared. "It would be easy to take something off of an unconscious body!"

"Why would he knock Patty out for her ElectroID? We asked him to pickpocket it." Tyson frowned. "There's no reason for him to hurt her."

"Then why would Patty lie?" Lola lowered her sunglasses. "And choose your next words _very_ carefully…"

"She lied because she's the killer!" Nyla glared. "She's trying to frame me!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

Aaron coughed. "Um… Well, then. It does look like Patty's testimony isn't very credible…"

"That was fun to watch!" Conchordia clapped. "What a good debate!"

"..." Rose had remained silent throughout. It wasn't like her to not participate in this, and yet, she just couldn't bring herself to say anything more.

Nick rose his sword. "So we must ask more of Patty, correct? We require additional testimony!"

"I… I don't know what else you want from me!?" Patty glared. "My testimony… I-Isn't credible? But that's what happened! I'm not lying! That _whore_ is the killer!"

"Fuck you!" Nyla snapped. "You're totally the killer! You've been nothing but mean to everyone here, nobody likes you!"

"Dames, dames, let's calm ourselves." Barry felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. "There's still a lot we can talk about, isn't there?"

"Nope." April let out a 'tch', annoyed. "Unless you want to talk about that fucking potted plant…"

"Potted plant?" Aaron frowned. "Ah, right, Tyson mentioned that was the last photograph… There was just a potted plant in the room..?"

"Oh! Ally Aaron and I noticed a hole in the dirt in the garden, where a flower once was!" Nick rose his hand with a big smile. "That is probably where the flower came from!"

"..." Aaron was considering this. "... You know... Having a potted plant in the room feels like an obvious frame… And yet…"

"It was an obvious frame!" Patty hissed. "I didn't dig up any flowers! I might be a gardener, but those flowers were just ugly! Whoever arranged them had no sense of aesthetic!"

"Terry, could I see your camera?" Aaron wondered. Terry shrugged, giving it to him while the debate went on.

"Nyla, you're the one who accused Patty." Lola frowned. "Do you know why she would leave a potted flower in the study, obviously incriminating herself…?"

"Well… What if she didn't mean to…?" Nyla bit her lip. "I-I mean, uh… I, uh…"

This was bad… Tyson had to figure out a good lie… A lie that would save Nyla's life!

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up_

Nick rose his sword in the air. "I believe that the potted plant holds incredible significance to this case! We must treat it with respect!"

" _All hail the potted plant. Our lord and savior..._ God, I want to die." Dru grumbled, crossing her arms. "This is ridiculous. We're basing someone's guilt off of a plant…?"

"There was just no reason for Patty to leave the potted plant there, if we assume she dug it up." Lola pushed up her sunglasses. "It incriminates her."

"Why would she go into the room in the first place?" Hannah gulped. "I-I mean… There's no reason, right?"

"Let's look at this from two perspectives." Conchordia smirked, taking center stage. "On one hand, if Patty isn't lying, that means the culprit dug up that flower, put it in a pot, and put that in the study just to frame Patty."

She smiled, twirling her hair. "But if Patty is a liar… That means she was doing some gardening when she found a reason to go into the study, right? And she brought her plant with her…"

Patty scowled. "And that's bullshit!"

"Ah!" Barry pointed. "That's it! If the Deserter had her ElectroID, and he was in the study…"

He grinned. "That means that he pickpocketed her after all… But she noticed! And she stopped her work to chase after him!"

"I agree with Barry!" Tyson nodded. "That makes the most sense!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"You're kidding!" Patty growled. "That's nothing but bullshit!"

"And it doesn't explain why Patty left her plant, incriminating herself." Lola frowned. "Explain your reasoning, Barry and Tyson."

"I've got this, pal!" Barry grinned, giving a thumbs up. "You see, this is what happened!"

The scene shifts to a view of the garden.

"While Patty was digging up a flower, doing Ultimate Gardener things, she got pickpocketed by the Deserter! This makes sense because while she was at work, she'd be distracted… The perfect time for a thief to strike!"

"But Patty seems like the kind of dame who'd be suspicious of anyone! She probably noticed that Deserter fella heading into the study… So she followed after him with her potted plant and her chosen weapon of self-defense!"

The scene shifts back to the trial room.

Barry beamed. "And that was when she realized she was alone with him! And she could get out if she just got away with a kill! So she dropped her plant and attacked him!"

"Th-that's ridiculous!" Patty growled. "I-I didn't-"

"Yes you did." Aaron pushed up his glasses. "You _definitely_ did. I have evidence."

"Evidence!?" Patty's eyes widened. "Fuck off! You don't have any evidence! It didn't happen! I didn't kill ANYONE! I was unconscious! Fuck all of you!"

"If you would shut up and listen…" Aaron gave Terry his camera back. "Nick! Pass me the flower guide. It's important."

Nick grinned, giving it to his friend. "There you go, ally Aaron!"

"Now, if I'm right…" Aaron smirked, turning to a certain section… "... Aha! There it is! The Novoslavic Lily!"

"O-Oh! They're p-pretty!" Harold beamed. "I-I was so glad t-to see s-some of my homeland's, um, f-flowers in the garden…"

"So the weird stuttering kid did it!" Patty was getting desperate. "His flowers, his potted plant, his murder! H-He did it!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this… But, no, the executioner probably _didn't_ kill the Deserter. Harold would have killed him efficiently, like Nick would have…" April sighed.

"The Novoslavic Lily has a very peculiar feature." Aaron pushed up his glasses, grinning. "Their roots… Are thorned, twisted, and wide-spread. They are _very_ hard to uproot… Only someone with great knowledge of flowers would have been able to put one of them in a pot…"

He smirked. "Unless we're about to suggest that Harold has a hobby in gardening, and _he_ dug it out?"

Tyson was amazed… Harold was a damn good gardener. Who knew?

"So he did it!" Patty grimaced. "I-I'm being framed! I didn't do anything!"

"Save it!" Nyla glared. "You killed our friend, you bitch! And then you tried to frame me!"

"Nyla, calm down… You didn't act this way when Julian was accused…" Dru frowned, spinning the needle on her compass.

"S-Sorry…" Nyla grimaced, stepping back. "I, just… I…"

"Don't fret, friend!" Nick beamed. "You were wrongly accused! I know the feeling! But we must calm down and face the real murderer!"

"REAL murderer!?" Patty hissed. "What _real_ murderer!? You all are fucking CRAZY!" She screamed, getting Barry and Lola to cover their ears.

She wasn't going to listen… Mostly because Tyson knew she didn't do it…

But that didn't matter. To save a life, Tyson had to sacrifice her. To save Nyla, he had to make sure this was the downfall of Patty Silvers…

He wouldn't let this end without a life being saved!

He would take a life to save a life… No matter what!

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Talk Action_

"Y-You're fucking crazy!" Patty glared. "A-Accusing me over a fucking flower…!"

"Not just any flower." Aaron grinned, crossing his arms. "A Novoslavic Lily. Not just anyone could have put that flower in a pot to frame you…"

"That… That fucking weirdo from Novoslavia did it, then!" Patty was gasping, as though beginning to hyperventilate. "Vote for him! He's the culprit!"

"Harold would have gone for a more efficient kill." Dru shrugged. "We already talked about this with Nick…"

Patty was hugging herself, grimacing. "Th-then… He was an accomplice! We can have accomplices here! H-He was helping someone else escape!"

"Why kill the Deserter, then?" Tyson glared. "You were a much easier target, weren't you? Since you were 'unconscious'?"

"To frame me! To make me look like the killer!" Patty yelled, pointing at nothing. "Fucking liars! Y-You're all idiots!"

"Y-You're j-just being m-mean now…" Harold grimaced. "Th-there's no reason t-to be rude…!"

"No reason to be… You're about to execute me! You fuckers!" Patty screamed. "This is rigged! I'm innocent! Innocent innocent innocent innocent innocent..!"

"Gang? I think my ears are bleeding…" Barry flinched.

"You had plenty of motive to kill…" Tyson glared. "Because… The killer's motive… They didn't think that help would come, did they?"

"What the hell are you talking about, you fucking piece of shit!?" Patty screeched. "You're full of bullshit!"

"Our killer didn't think they had much time left.." Tyson kept up the pressure. "Because they didn't know that Jeremiah had gotten away with murder, and was out of the manor."

"This is stupid! So fucking stupid!"

"Because Patty never heard our conversation at breakfast this morning! And she never talked to anyone else to learn the truth!"

"Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"That's why she killed the Deserter in cold blood!"

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

"... That was it, wasn't it?" Tyson glared. "That's the only motive that makes sense…"

"... I-I… I-I didn't…" Patty stiffened, her voice nearly gone… She had screamed so much…

"I've heard enough…" Terry grimaced. "Sh-she did it… Th-there's motive and everything…!"

"I agree." Aaron smirked. "Monokuma? It's time to vote."

"N-No… Please…" Patty grimaced. "I…."

"Upupupupu!~" Monokuma banged his gavel. "It's voting time, kids! Everyone, say your vote aloud when I call on you! When we hit majority- that's nine people, by the way- I'll count that as your chosen culprit!"

"I-I didn't… I didn't do anything wrong…!"

"Rose Major!"

"..." Rose sighed. "Patty Silvers…. I'm… I'm sorry, everyone. I've been useless…"

"Don't beat yourself up over it." Lola frowned. "You're stressed. We all are."

"F-Fuck you! Don't give her attention! I'm about to die!" Patty gasped, grimacing. "I-I'm innocent, too! I didn't… I didn't do anything wrong…!"

"Conchordia Flight!"

"..." The opera singer smirked. "I had a gut feeling that it was Nyla… But, Tyson swayed me!~ I vote for Patty Silvers!"

Tyson let out a sigh of relief.

"Aaron Wright!"

"Patty Silvers." Aaron pushed his glasses up. "She's the killer."

"Nick Icarus!"

"I… I'm sorry. You're a victim here, just like the rest of us…!" The swordsman gulped. "Patty Silvers!"

"I-I didn't…" Patty grimaced. "I didn't…."

"April Nun!"

"Patty." April shrugged. "Obviously."

"Hannah Snow!"

"..." The quiet girl gulped, mumbling. "... Patty Silvers…"

"... D-Did I…?" Patty's eyes widened as she looked to the floor. "Did I…? A-Am… Am I going crazy…? This… This can't be happening..! I-I didn't do it…!"

"Terry Holds!"

"Patty." Terry grimaced. "S-Sorry…"

"Tyson Jin!"

"Patty Silvers." Tyson frowned. "She committed the murder."

"I-I didn't… I did? I…" Patty was swaying back and forth now, gripping her sunflower hat, as though hanging onto it for dear life. "I… I…"

"Harold Slayne!"

Harold nodded. "... P-Patty."

Monokuma laughed. "That's majority!~ Patty Silvers is your chosen culprit!"

"..." Patty grimaced. "I… I did it…? I killed… I did? I… But… No! I didn't!"

"Now, for our _very_ special punishment…!"

"NO!" Patty slammed her fists onto her podium, crying. "PLEASE! I DIDN'T KILL ANYONE!"

"The Ultimate Gardener, Patty Silvers…!"

"I DIDN'T! PLEASE! PLEASE! I'M SORRY!"

"LET'S BEGIN!"

And then, the most horrible thing happened. Lola and Barry had to jump out of the way as flames erupted from below Patty's podium, engulfing her instantly.

"OH MY GOD!" Terry shouted.

"H-holy shit…" Aaron took a step back, shaking, watching the flames grow…

"NOOOOO!" Patty screamed in the flames, holding onto her podium with charred hands. "I DIDN'T! I DIDN'T! I DIDN'T!" She screamed as she burned, crouching, moving to the fetal position. "I…"

Several people were screaming and crying at this point. The only ones who remained silent were Tyson, Harold, Lola, Barry, Conchordia, and Georgia. While everyone else panicked, they looked on at their newly-deceased peer, all with different thoughts…

But for Tyson, as gruesome as this was… It meant victory. This class trial had gone exactly as he wanted it to.

The elevator doors opened as Monokuma laughed… But nobody dared to leave yet…

Nobody dared to leave… While there was so much pain in the air…

 **-= CLASS TRIAL: END =-**

There was a part of Tyson that wanted to scream. A part of him that wanted to scream and shout and admit what he had done… But he pushed those thoughts deep down and smothered them, knowing that this was the only way to save a life…

Yes… With this, Nyla was officially saved. He looked to her… Nyla was sniffling, scared...

Tyson went up to her, giving her a hug. "Hey. It's alright. You're safe now."

"... W-We did that…" She whispered, grimacing. "W-We did that, Tyson…"

"No." Tyson frowned. "I did that... Monokuma did that. You're innocent."

"..." Nyla sniffled, wiping her face, not saying anything else…

"Oi, Rose." Aaron went over to her after calming down somewhat. "I wanted to apologize."

"... What…?" Rose grimaced, looking up at the pharmacist. "Wh-why? A-And why now!? Patty just-"

"Patty just died. Two of our friends are gone." Aaron frowned. "You might have accused Nick and I in the past… But that's in the past, and right now, we need to work together. All of us."

"..." Rose sniffled. "... Th-thank you, Aaron… Y-You're… You're a good guy…"

"I only make friends with the greatest of people!" Nick grinned. "Aaron is no exception!"

"... Th-that was a close one, eh, dame?" Barry chuckled awkwardly to Lola. "We were almost toast…!"

"..." Lola was shivering. "..."

"Uh… Are you alright…?" Barry blinked. "A-Ah, right. Flames. Burned someone alive. Right! That's… Traumatic. Come on, now, let ol' Barry help ya! He knows a great recipe for hot cocoa!" He guided the sharpshooter by the arm, though she was hardly responding.

Soon, everyone went inside the elevator… And the fifteen remaining Ultimates went up, leaving the charred body of Patty Silvers behind.

* * *

It was about eleven at night when Tyson, Harold, and Nyla arrived at the foyer. The trial had been over for some time, now, and nearly everyone had gone to bed… Making this the perfect time to say goodbye.

"... W-Will I be okay…?" Nyla gulped. "We… We don't know what's beyond those doors…"

"You've been given the best shot at surviving of anyone here…" Tyson smiled. "I know you'll be okay. We played the game fairly. If you died here, there would be no point to this, right?"

"... R-Right…" Nyla gulped. "So… I'll go out and get help, I promise! I'll save you two, l-like you saved me, and…"

She sniffled, beginning to cry. "... D-Dammit… W-We did so many terrible things, didn't we…?"

"I did." Tyson frowned. "You didn't."

"A-All you did w-was a-avenge your brother…" Harold smiled softly. "W-We did the rest… S-So, please… L-Live your life happily, okay…?"

"Harold's right." Tyson smiled. "If you can't get help… Then just live your life, okay? Otherwise, this would have all been worthless."

"..." Nyla sniffled, smiling softly. "... Y-You two… A-Are… Are horrible, b-but… S-So nice, too… I-I don't get it…"

"P-People always… Thought I-I was evil…" Harold frowned. "B-but… J-Just 'cause I think e-emotions are weird…. D-Doesn't make me evil… I-I still c-care for my friends, a-and I still w-want the best for them… I-I just can't feel happy o-or sad either way…"

But he smiled, showing some of that 'happiness' he claimed he couldn't feel. "I… I think th-that, sometimes, b-being horrible… Lying… Doing b-bad things… Being awful c-can sometimes m-make a miracle h-happen… Sometimes, b-being mean is just… N-Necessary…"

"..." Nyla giggled softly, sniffling again. "... You're weird, Harold…"

She smiled, turning to the doors. "... I-I'm… I'm going now…" She let out a small sigh. "... I'll get help. I promise!"

Tyson smirked. "We'll wait for you. If you take longer than three days, though, we'll get started with a new plan."

"I'll make sure you don't have to." Nyla grinned. "So… Until we meet again!"

Nyla waved to Tyson and Harold as she reached out for the doors, half-expecting to find them locked… But as she touched the doorknobs, a green light shined around the room, and a 'beep' was heard as the doors opened…

Behind the doors were a metallic hallway, leading up to what appeared to be an elevator…

"..." Nyla gulped. "It… Looks like something sci-fi…"

"Tyson… Look…" Harold pointed at the gun, which was aiming right at them. "... D-Don't move…"

Tyson gulped. "You'll be fine, Nyla…! Go!"

Nyla took a deep breath, being brave. "O-Okay…! I'll be back!"

Nyla ran down the expansive hallway. And as she did, the doors behind her closed, the light disappeared, and the gun moved back into its neutral position…

* * *

In the shadows of the hallway, a lone figure laughed to themselves.

They had seen everything…

So Tyson and Harold… Those two helped Nyla escape. Patty was innocent, after all…

How _interesting._ Yes, how so, so interesting…

That Tyson Jin… Was so interesting…

They laughed again, grinning to themselves. They hadn't felt this way in years. These emotions, this obsession… They had to act upon it.

Tyson Jin… Would be theirs.

* * *

 **REMAINING PLAYERS: 15**

 **SURVIVED PLAYERS: 1**

 **CHAPTER 2: The Royal Murder Plot: END**


	4. Chapter 3: A Siren Song

After that complete mess of a trial, Arthur was feeling particularly vulnerable. They had hardly been given any time to recover after the first trial, and all of the sudden, the gardener kills… They were officially down to fifteen people… Death seemed to linger beyond every corner, and the orator felt powerless to do anything about it.

Even worse was the fact that his sister was here… Georgia York. He would feel so much better if she wasn't here. He would feel a million times better if his dear sister wasn't in the line of fire as well… And yet, as though by some cruel twist of fate, they had both been captured and forced to participate in this game as seemingly the only two people who knew each other. Everyone else was a stranger…

After exiting the elevator, Arthur led his sister by hand to the dining hall. Georgia followed without question, still seeming shocked after Patty's horrible execution. He didn't fault her for her fear… He had been just as shocked after seeing someone _burned alive._ And, yet, he had to step up as the older brother, didn't he? It might have only been by a minute or two, but, Arthur was the older sibling, and he had to take charge. Show a bit of maturity… Keep things moving, even if they were all scared…

Those were the qualities of a good older sibling. Of a good leader. Arthur always believed he was meant to be a leader, and, yet, this situation had made him wonder if he was really right for that role. This whole situation felt like it was an impossible one, with crumbling trust all around…

Arthur and Georgia entered the dining hall. Right behind them came Barry, Lola, and Terry. Barry was helping Lola move to a seat while Terry had darted to the kitchen, mumbling 'I need some water' as an excuse for moving so fast past the pair.

Arthur and Georgia sat down next to each other. Georgia was writing nervously in her notebook while Arthur waited patiently for her message.

Georgia wasn't one for talking. It wasn't as though she were unable to talk; it was more that she absolutely hated talking. She always felt awkward and nervous trying to speak, and she never felt she could get a point across; she would say things she didn't mean and every word she spoke was taken the wrong way. She had decided she had enough, and learned to simply write her concerns out…

It was something that Arthur didn't quite approve of. He felt that she should do her best to get better at vocalizing her concerns rather than writing them out… As an orator, he felt he should be able to help her with this. And, yet, she refused, always feeling more comfortable with a notebook and pen by her side, and with her brother as her interpreter.

Usually, Arthur would take a quiet period like this as an opportunity to ask her to say something, so that he could hear his sister's voice again… But this was a terrible situation. He knew that Georgia needed as much comfort as she could get. He let her continue writing, not asking that she talk right now.

"Oi, uh, Arthur and Georgia." Arthur looked up to see Barry across the table, tipping his hat to them. "Either of you want some hot cocoa?"

"That would be wonderful, Barry." Arthur smiled, taking a glance to his sister. Georgia paused, but gave a small nod in response.

"Since sister wants some, look for some of the little marshmallows, will you, Barry?" Arthur smiled. "She loves those."

"I'm on the case!" Barry grinned, giving the two of them a wink. "I'll be right back with the goods, gang." He left for the kitchen, passing by Terry, who seemed awfully pale. The animal photographer sat down across from the twins in his usual spot, shaking like a leaf, sipping a glass of water he'd gotten from the kitchen.

Arthur took this moment to shoot a glance over towards Lola Elsworth. She was almost exactly like Terry, if not worse. She seemed pale, shaking somewhat, as though she had gotten some sort of fever. She was a far cry from the usually confident and assertive Lola that Arthur had come to know.

The orator felt something hit his lap. Glancing down, he realized it was another one of his sister's notes…

 _Are we going to make it out of here?_

Now that was a question that stung Arthur… He nearly visibly flinched at the question. It was a tough question, one that he was afraid to approach, but he had to do his best to reassure his sister. He looked over to her, noticing that she was frowning, looking downcast…

"We'll make it." He smiled, putting his arm around her. "Don't worry. Have I ever been wrong before?"

"..." Georgia pouted, nodding. Arthur just laughed it off, and she rolled her eyes in response, going back to writing.

Terry took another sip of his water, looking to the twins. "... S-So, um… Uh… D-Do you guys think help is coming…?"

Arthur blinked at this, adjusting his cravat as he gave an unsure answer. "Well… I would believe so. Why wouldn't there be?"

"..." Terry bit his lip. "If… I-If this is a government thing… Maybe help won't ever come…"

"You think this is a conspiracy?" Arthur sighed. "Not to offend, Terry, friend, but that is a little…"

"Crazy?" The boy gulped. "M-Maybe you're right… B-But… I-I don't understand how else th-this could be happening…!" He flinched, whacking his wrist against the table, grimacing.

"Terry, why do you _do_ that?" Arthur frowned. He's been wondering for a while, but nobody had ever called the boy out on this to his knowledge. "That… Wrist thing. Aren't you going to break your wrist?"

"Shut up…" Terry seethed, suddenly getting prickly. "I-It's none of your business…"

Arthur blinked, coughing. "R-Right… Right, never mind…" He looked away from Terry, giving the boy reason to calm down.

The orator received another note from his sister. He looked down at his lap to read it.

 _He's seriously crazy. We need some order around here._

Georgia had a point. This group of fifteen had no leader, and the people were seeming more and more broken… But now was an opportunity for peace! They had gone through two murder trials, and everyone was tired, so now was Arthur's chance to restore some justice and order…

… Tomorrow, anyway. He didn't think anyone was up for leadership things today. Arthur could only hope a murder wasn't committed in the next twenty-four hours, but at the rate these things were going, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if he heard the body discovery announcement in the next hour or so.

"Alright, gang! The cocoa man is here!" Barry laughed, arriving from the kitchen with a tray full of five mugs. He gave two to Arthur and Georgia, giving them a little bow of marshmallows, and set one in front of Terry as well.

"C'mon, fella, have a few sips. You look dead to the world." Barry pat the boy's shoulder, but Terry only frowned.

"... It could be poisoned." He mumbled, just loud enough for Barry to hear. The journalist stopped, glaring to Terry.

"..." He sighed, adjusting his hat. "You _realize_ there are no poisons around here…?"

"S-Some of the food could be poisoned, or… M-maybe you had poison with you. I don't know." Terry grumbled, biting his lip. "... I'm not drinking it."

Barry scratched the back of his neck. "Whatever floats your boat, fella…" He gave Lola a mug and saved the last for himself, sitting across from the sharpshooter. "Here you go, dame! Some of the best hot cocoa you'll ever have! _Not_ poisoned!" He added with a goofy smile.

"..." It was as though Lola was frozen. She looked at the hot cocoa, but didn't make a move, still shaken from the execution that ended Patty's life.

"..." Barry sighed, crossing his legs. "Ah, geez, gang, this isn't good! That's Berry family recipe hot cocoa! It's designed to pep up any fella or dame, no matter what!"

Arthur smirked, rolling his eyes. It was nice of Barry to make them hot cocoa, though perhaps the journalist was expecting too much. Not as cynical as Terry, Arthur took a sip, smiling and letting out a sigh as he tasted that rich chocolate flavor. "This is good stuff, Barry." He smiled, glancing to his sister, who was busy plopping in as many of the tiny marshmallows as she could into her mug.

"Ah, at least _someone_ gets it!" Barry took a sip of his own mug, smirking. "You gotta look up a little at times like these! Enjoy yourself! We have a long battle ahead of us, gang, we can't sit down and get all paranoid!"

"I'm not paranoid…" Terry hissed. "I-I'm… Being realistic…! F-Four people are dead, and a murderer's gone free!"

"But _we're_ still alive." Arthur reminded. "And we need to do our best to remain calm so that we can live on-"

" _Fuck_ that!" Terry snapped. "Remaining calm is what the Deserter did, and he's fucking dead! Patty sure acted calm before she was _burned alive_!"

Lola shuddered at that, tears in her eyes. Noticing this, something in Barry snapped as he sat up, banging his fist against the wall behind him.

"Oi, Terry. You want me to come over there and whack your ugly mug?" The journalist glared. "You're losing it, fella."

"..." Terry grimaced, tears in his eyes. "... F-Fuck you people… I-I can't be here anymore…" He jetted out of the room, hitting his wrist against the door frame as he went into the hall.

"..." Barry sighed, sitting down. "Well, that's a waste of a perfectly good mug of hot cocoa…"

Arthur frowned, rubbing the back of his head. "Was that _really_ necessary, Barry…? Terry might be paranoid, but…" He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling a bit awkward.

Barry Berry flinched, frowning. "... Ah, yeah, you're probably right, fella. I'm sorry about that." He tipped his hat, shrugging lightly. "You gotta understand, I… Ah, never mind. I won't make any excuses, yelling at Terry like that was just _stupid._ I'll apologize later."

Arthur nodded. "Right…" He wasn't sure what set Barry off like that, but, at least he seemed to have his head on straight again. He looked to his sister, who had just finished writing a note and had passed it to him.

 _Do you think Barry knows Lola?_

Huh. That was a thought that hadn't occurred to him. Georgia always was more perceptive than him. Barry had seemed awfully protectively of the sharpshooter after that second trial, but, Arthur had just chalked that up to Barry being a good guy. Maybe it went a bit deeper than that.

Shrugging it off, Arthur whispered that he didn't have a clue before getting back to drinking his hot cocoa. It would be a long evening. He might as well try his best to enjoy it.

* * *

Jeremiah's life sucked right now. He was used to going without food for a while, so he was fine with rationing that sandwich from earlier today, but he found himself to be _immensely_ bored.

After looking at the pipe below the sink for the tenth time today, the mechanic let out an annoyed 'tch', sprawling onto the floor. He could only wonder what was going on up there. Did they find the culprit? Did the culprit go free? Did-

He heard the trapdoor open. Jeremiah's eyes shifted towards the other end of the room as Tyson jumped down the ladder, a grin on his face.

 _Dammit._ Jeremiah knew that, whatever news he was about to receive, it wasn't going to be good. The man Jeremiah now knew was a borderline psychopath had an evil grin, giving the mechanic flashbacks to various horror movies he'd been pushed by his pals to watch with them.

"Here." Tyson tossed a book, a bar of chocolate, and another sandwich into the cell. "I figured I'd get you some entertainment. To celebrate a job well done." He smirked.

"So, you got away with it?" Jeremiah glared. "Who did you sacrifice…? What did you do?"

"The Deserter was killed by Nyla." Tyson frowned. "Patty Greens was framed… It worked perfectly. Nyla will be outside soon enough. Then, with any luck, she can get help…"

He snickered, sighing softly. "... But I doubt our captors would allow for that… No. I think Nyla is safe. But she won't be going anywhere."

"..." Jeremiah sighed. "Then what makes you think any of us will survive this? Why do you think this is happening?"

"I don't know why this is happening, Jeremiah…." Tyson crossed his arms. "If I could stop this game as a whole, I would… But I can't. And I can't know that any survivors will stay alive. But I have to do my best. I won't allow for only one or two people to survive…"

"You want the full seven." Jeremiah glared. "But you've… You've _murdered_ people to get that. The Deserter and Patty… Did they deserve what they got?"

"No, they didn't." Tyson shook his head. "But… None of us deserve this, Jeremiah. That's the point…"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So, listen. Just sit tight in here. I'm going to give this a couple of days… But if no help comes, I'll have to plan again…"

"And you'll select who lives and who dies again, is that it?" The mechanic glared. "You're going to play 'God' with these people's lives…? With my life, too?"

Tyson laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing! With me as 'God', more people live!... But I understand. You don't appreciate that yet…"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "... Maybe you'll appreciate it more when you're alive, outside of this hell, and back with your girlfriend."

"..." Jeremiah glared. "..." But he could say nothing in response. Deep down, Jeremiah understood that what Tyson was doing was saving the most people… But it was also clear that what he was doing was wrong beyond words. Murdering people, framing people, plotting…

It would catch up to him soon enough. And when it did… Jeremiah wasn't sure what would happen, but it wouldn't be good.

"Anyway, go ahead and read the book. I got it from the study." Tyson shrugged. "Should give you something to do for a while. I'll grab some more if you like it."

The tactician turned around, leaving. He climbed up the ladder, leaving the silent mechanic behind. Jeremiah let out a sigh, rubbing his temple.

He looked down at the book he had been given. _The Art of War._ That was… Fitting, Jeremiah supposed. He always found books like this boring, but, he had nothing else to do.

It was time to read. Sitting on his bed, the mechanic used his picture of himself and Marine as a bookmark, flipping through the pages…

* * *

Rose Major was losing herself. She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, looking at the tear marks on her face… They made a trail all the way down to her chin. Wiping at her face with the back of her palm, Rose sniffled, gripping her sink.

Things had really gone to hell for Rose. She had been born into a family of police officers, lawyers, public servants… She thought she could handle these simple mysteries. And, yet, she couldn't. She pointed towards the wrong person every time, and some… Some random _fucker_ got her every time…

Granted, he was wrong, too, but… He could sway everyone. He had power. Rose had none.

Rose had managed to make a friend of Lola in the beginning, but now, even that small friendship was slipping away. She had hardly noticed what had happened to Lola after that execution; she was too stunned and afraid…

And, now, the only thing she had was the mercy of Aaron and Nick, who had chosen to 'forgive' her after she accused them both… Rose hated the position she was in. She wanted- no, _needed_ more control. She couldn't allow another murder to occur, and if another did…

She _would_ get the culprit right this time… She would… Because she wasn't an idiot. She wasn't a fool. She was smart. She was Rose Major, and she was going to be a _fucking_ judge one day…

She hugged herself, taking deep breaths in front of the mirror…

The tears came back.

* * *

 **1:15 AM**

Tyson and Harold had a midnight snack at the dining hall after saying goodbye to Nyla.

"S-So…" Harold refrained from taking another bite of toast to ask Tyson a question, looking to the tactician on his right. "Um… Wh-what next…? N-Nyla's survived, s-so…"

"Now, we wait." Tyson took a bite out of a sandwich, shrugging softly. "No reason to move when we have plenty of time. A tactician always takes as much time as they can before making a decision…"

"D-Do you really think… Sh-she can go get help…?" Harold gulped. "W-We're.. U-Underground or s-something, right…? Th-that's what i-it seemed like..."

That was true. That strange hallway and elevator Nyla went up made it seem as though they were underground… It would be difficult to spot this place if it were, say, underground in a densely-packed forest. Tyson wondered if Nyla would even be able to get back to society if she ended up walking outside to find herself in some random forest somewhere…

Well, he believed in her. She was his chosen first survivor. She had to make it.

"We'll give Nyla time." Tyson shrugged. "But… If we don't get anything… We'll need to make a move. We need to decide who to save next, now that we know this might work."

Harold nodded softly. "... W-We can do this, then… W-We can save more people…"

Tyson smiled with a soft nod towards the executioner. "Yeah. We can." He let out a soft sigh, softening up, slumping his shoulders. "... To be honest, just pulling off that one plan… It took a lot out of me."

"I-I h-hope you get y-your energy back soon…" Harold bit his lip. "Um… Y-Y'know, because… W-We'll need to do a l-lot more after this… D-Depending on what happens…"

Harold was right… If Nyla couldn't get help, that left six more slots for people to survive. Meaning Tyson still had to mastermind four more murders…

 **There were now fifteen people left in the manor. In the morning, it was likely that people were going to find Nyla missing, meaning they will believe there are only fourteen people remaining…**

 **Things would surely get easier to control from here on out. Thanks to the trials, Tyson has gotten to know the survivors decently, and he's made several connections. There are people who trust him…**

 **Better yet, he has his trump card, Jeremiah… Everyone believes there is one less person in this game than there actually is… While that was initially done to have Rose trust Tyson, it likely won't matter as much now that Nyla has gotten away with her crime and Rose's credibility was down. All Tyson had to do now was assume a leadership role and mastermind the rest…**

 **But… Who would survive? He had already decided that himself, Harold, and Jeremiah would survive… But that left three more people. He needed to figure that out soon…**

"I'll get better after I get some rest." Tyson smiled weakly. "Though, uh… It'll be trouble sleeping after that…"

He had watched three people die and had seen four corpses already… Tyson was beginning to feel incredibly scared of himself. Would he be watching more deaths? Would he find more corpses? Would he be _making_ those corpses with his plans?... God, what was he doing…?

He shook his doubts out of his head. He needed to go through with was the only way to help people survive.

"L-Let's g-go to bed, then…." Harold smiled gently. "W-We'll need… A-A lot of sleep…"

Tyson smiled back, nodding in agreement. "Alright, let's get cleaned up…"

The two cleaned up any evidence of them being there before moving to their rooms…

* * *

That morning, Tyson moved out of his room with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. He had hardly gotten any sleep thanks to the events of the yesterday. All he could think about was what to do next, what would happen if help never came, who to save…

Tons of thoughts were rattling around in his head. He checked his ElectroID for the time, and found that it was about 7:30 AM. He was likely one of the first up.

"Hey, what's up?" Tyson heard a voice to his left. Looking down the hall, he saw April, crossing her arms and frowning towards the tactician. This was one person Tyson wasn't expecting to see in the early morning.

"Uh… Nothing much. Tired." Tyson chuckled weakly. "How are you?" He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, awkward cough.

"Fucked up." April was blunt. "I feel like seventy different trucks hit me all at once. Yesterday sucked ass, and you know what? Now I think I'm sick. I puked up the worst shit this morning…" She shuddered. "... Do you think there's any medicine in this murder house?"

"I… That's… Way too much information, April…" Tyson deadpanned, incredibly uncomfortable. "But, uh… There's probably something in the storage room?"

April sighed. "Whatever…" She grumbled, rubbing her shoulder. "So, hey, I'll look later, but now, I want you to check out this weird room. It's at the end of the hall."

A weird room at the end of the hall? Tyson didn't even remember there being a door there. Sure enough, though, as he looked past April, there was a metallic door at the end of the hallway now.

That didn't look fun. No wonder April wanted _him_ to check it out. He hardly wanted to do it, himself, but he figured it was best to get as much information about this place as possible while staying in it.

Tyson walked to the metallic door, noticing that it opened automatically as soon as he was a few feet away. He glanced back towards April, who simply watched on, twirling her hair.

"I'm guessing I'm not getting any help checking this room out?" Tyson frowned, crossing his arms. April shrugged with a small smirk.

"What would you need my help for? Are you lonely without that psycho executioner by your side?~" April teased with a grin. "Just check the place out, you wuss. Looks like there's not even much in there, anyway."

Tyson checked, and, sure enough, she was right. He was more than a little bothered by her comments, but he ignored her for now, deciding to get to work investigating. Entering the room, Tyson found that it was about the size of a supply closet, with the only things in the room being these big levers, all of which were on the same wall. There were twenty of them, each with a nameplate over them…

 _Barry - Rye - April - Harold - Rose - Lola - Julian - Jeremiah - Aaron - Deserter - Nick - Conchordia - Dru - Nyla - Patty - Arthur - Terry - Georgia - Hannah - Tyson_

Tyson recognized this setup. He checked his ElectroID's map, and sure enough, he found that these levers were in the same order as the bedrooms in the manor. But what did they do…?

He pulled April's lever, looking to her. "Hey, go check out your room! See if anything weird's happening." He had a small, victorious smirk on his face. At least, if something strange happened, it'd happen to _her_ and not him.

"If my room's flooded or something, I'm stealing yours!" April rolled her eyes, walking over to her room… She tried her ElectroID, but she couldn't seem to open her door…

"Hey, my door's busted!" April shouted. "I can't get in!"

"Really…?" Tyson mumbled to himself. He let go of the lever, finding that it went back up automatically. "Try now!"

April tried to open the door to her room again, finding that it was unlocked now. Checking inside, she went back out after just a few seconds. "It's all good!"

Tyson rubbed his chin. So this room had levers that could lock the doors to their rooms…? Not only that, but the levers operated oddly. You had to pull one of them down manually and, if you let go, the lever would go back up… If you were a murderer who wanted people to stay in the rooms while you cleaned up the crime scene, you would have a hard time utilizing this room…

He shook his head, exiting. "Well, now we have another mechanic to worry about. People can lock others inside their own rooms."

"Or even lock people out of their own rooms… But, they'd get caught pretty quickly, I guess." April twirled her hair. "Do you think anything else has popped up around here?"

"Probably. Last time, Monokuma opened up the garden, study, and that weird hallway…" Tyson quipped. "We'll likely have some new places to check out this time, too. Like that lever room."

April shrugged. "Let's check it out, then.." She walked down the hall, towards the stairs. "C'mon!"

Tyson wasn't sure what to think of April. She was crude, but not nearly as off-putting as Patty. She might end up being a good frame in the future, though, if she kept this kind of attitude up. The tactician shook his head, deciding not to think about that. He wouldn't sacrifice anyone else if he didn't have to.

… But, he was pretty sure he would have to. He didn't think Nyla would be coming back with help so easily… He just wanted to hold out at a least a little bit of hope.

He followed April down the stairs, ready to check out whatever new rooms Monokuma had granted them.

* * *

The door at the end of the right branch of the main hallway had opened up. There was a white room with a white spiral staircase heading up into a black room. Again, this place was as monochromatic as ever… Tyson could only wonder if there was any good reason behind this theme.

He went up the staircase first, April following him without a word. The two ended in a square room with four doorways, though only two of them were open. Both led into hallways…

"This hallway has a bunch of windows." April seemed excited at first, but sighed as she realized… "Buuuut they only overlook the garden… Not the outside world."

"They're big windows. Looks like someone could easily jump through them." Tyson observed, opening one of them up. "See? We should keep this in mind if another murder happens."

April grumbled. "I can't believe we have to think like fucking detectives twenty-four seven. Another murder can't just happen out of the blue now, can it? I mean, Jeremiah and Patty were probably fucking psychos or something, but, the rest of the people here seem cool… Except Harold."

"And Harold won't kill." Tyson defended. "So I can't see anyone else murdering, you're right. But we need to keep our eyes open, just in case."

April frowned. "How are you so sure that _executioner_ won't kill? And why are you friends with him?" She pestered the tactician, curious. "I mean, seriously, you _are_ a tactician, right? Shouldn't you have a biiiit more care for you own fucking life?"

Tyson rolled his eyes, rubbing his arm. "Harold won't kill. I know he won't, because he's my friend." The boy frowned. "I know you don't get that. But just because he's done some bad things doesn't mean we should treat him like a monster."

Tyson half-believed the words he was saying. To be honest, while he liked Harold, he fully recognized that the boy was the most dangerous person here. That was why he was sticking so close to him. He needed to make sure Harold was controlled. The more dangerous variables that are under Tyson's control, the less dangerous variables Tyson had to worry about.

April frowned, crossing her arms. "... I don't _get_ you. He's an executioner! A psychopath! How could you just skip over that and be _friends_ with him?"

"Well, our situation is strange." Tyson smiled, chuckling softly. "Maybe in normal circumstances, I wouldn't be friends with Harold. But right now, I think we could all use as many friends as we can get, wouldn't you agree?"

"..." April sighed at this, finding it to be a good point. She rubbed her temple, shrugging. "Fine, fine. Let's just keep looking around."

They followed the hallway with the windows, finding that it looped around the entire garden. There was a locked door at the side of the hallway, but other than that, it seemed this hallway existed solely as a scenic route around the manor. At the end of the hall, they entered the hallway they had seen earlier, which had three more doors to explore.

Tyson checked the door a bit up the hall, first, finding that it led into a small, thin hallway with another door at the end. He checked another door nearby, on the same side, and found that it was the same thing.

"Do you think it leads into the same room…?" April frowned. "This is a weird way to go about it, though. What's up with the small hallways?"

"I feel like it'd make more sense if we could see this place from the outside." Tyson clicked his tongue. "But we can't…"

April sighed, rubbing her neck. "Fuck. Well, let's just check it out. I'll go down one hallway, you go down the other?"

"Sure, why not?" Tyson picked the left hallway. "See you on the other side."

The two went down their respective hallways, entering through the end doors to find themselves in a room about the size of the dining hall. It had a large, oval table that was painted black to set it apart from the white room it was in. There was a large whiteboard across from the doors with several different colored markers and a couple of erasers.

"What is this? A business room?" April scoffed, checking out the table. "Mmm… There's a big map of the world here. Maybe it's a geography room?"

Sure enough, there was a map of the world on the table, with several different pins on it, labeling different countries. Tyson rubbed his chin, finding it familiar.

"This is probably a war room." He deduced. "Granted, it's a fake one, no doubt, but… It reminds me of some places I've gotten to visit during my, uh, 'travels' as a tactician."

"I wish I got some fancy room to sit in for being a trapper." April shrugged. "But, nah. All I get are some dainty prizes from the local fair for bagging the biggest raccoon or whatever."

"I haven't won any prizes." Tyson shrugged softly. "I don't really get any sort of material recognition… So I think you're in a better spot than I am."

April smirked. "You get to go to military bases across the country and you're complaining about not getting some medals? Seriously?" She scoffed with a giggle. Tyson rolled his eyes.

"I was just trying to make you feel better." The tactician sighed. "But, whatever. We know what this room is now! Let's leave." He threw his hands up in the air, done with this, walking back into his hallway. April followed.

The last door they had to enter was actually a set of double doors, seemingly made out of mahogany, painted black and white. Tyson opened them, entering the room without a second thought…

But once he entered the large room, he was stunned. It was big theater, meant to sit at least a hundred people, with a large stage at the back with red curtains, regular coloring… This place was both the most normal and abnormal room in the whole manor. It was normal for its regular coloring (no monochromatic themes here), but it was the most abnormal for simply being a _big theater._ What was Monokuma expecting them to do here?

"Maybe we could put on a show?" April shrugged. "... Nah, just kidding. Putting on a show when some of our friends recently died is kinda fucked up."

"Yeah, I don't think anyone would be up to that." Tyson sighed, rubbing his shoulder as he walked up to the stage, climbing up it from the front and glancing around. "... There's lots of ropes, chairs, and set pieces backstage. Not much else of note, though."

"Ropes and chairs?" April smirked. "... Hehehe…" She grinned to herself, and when Tyson saw the face she was making, he decided he _really_ didn't want to ask.

The tactician shrugged. "That looks like it's it, though. Guess we should go back downstairs and let the others know what we found." He checked his pockets, ensuring he still had his dagger and ElectroID. He figured he should go get some things from backstage sometime, too, if only because some of the ropes might be useful for a future plot.

April nodded, snapping out of whatever creepy thoughts she was having. "Right, let's jet. This place is creepy as hell, anyway." She turned to leave, and Tyson followed her, the two of them going to the dining hall.

* * *

After the morning's exploration, Tyson was surprised to find everyone in the dining hall. Even Hannah, who had previously done all she could to stay out of this killing game, was sitting between Nick and Dru, silently eating with all the others.

"Ah, so there is Tyson and April!" Arthur smiled, putting his hands on his hips. "Now all we're missing is Nyla! Did she go upstairs to explore with you two?"

"Huh?" April rose an eyebrow. "Uh, no? Tyson and I went upstairs by ourselves… And, hey, why didn't you guys go up to explore, too?"

"Arthur and Georgia dragged us to this 'breakfast meeting' instead." Aaron shrugged, pushing up his glasses. "Not that I mind. Seeing everyone in one place again is refreshing."

Hannah had a small smile on her face. "Y-Yeah… Th-things don't… F-Feel as scary anymore, I-I guess…" She rubbed her shoulder, feeling awkward. She wasn't sure how to explain why she liked this, but, she knew that it felt like order was being established again, and if Hannah needed one thing right now in her life, it was some order to conflict with the chaos.

"Where's Nyla?" Terry frowned. "Wh-where is she? She wasn't with them, right? A-And we searched the first floor, _right?_ "

"Woah, wait, let's not jump to conclusions there fella." Barry pulled at the collar of his shirt. "She's probably in her room, right?"

"Th-that's not possible! When I left my room, all the keycard readers were red! Nobody was in their room." Terry glared, getting agitated, hitting his wrist against the wall behind him. "Sh-she… She might have escaped…!"

"Patty _did_ accuse her…" Conchordia hummed with a small smirk on her face. "Oh dear… Were we wrong _again?_ "

The sheer thought drove the room into a tense, uneasy silence. It hung for just a few seconds before a loud voice cut through it.

"No! No, we cannot assume that just yet!" Arthur grimaced. "We… We will look for her today. Tyson and April could have simply missed her in the area they were exploring."

"Can't argue with that. The place is like a dumb maze." April frowned, crossing her arms. "But… The fact that the person Patty accused is missing… Does make it seem likely that-"

Terry grimaced, speaking up. "We were wrong _again_! W-We let another killer go free, and… And Patty was innocent! We burned her alive a-and she was _innocent!_ "

" _We_ didn't do shit!" April barked, glaring. "It was _her_ fault for not defending herself worth shit! She looked super suspicious!"

"She didn't have to die…" Lola bit her thumb, sweat rolling down her brow. The sharpshooter looked worse for wear, with her hair in a mess, but she didn't seem as bad as she was yesterday evening. "... She was innocent…"

"Hey, now, gang, we can't jump to conclusions!" Barry grimaced. "There's still a chance Nyla is here! We just gotta look for her."

"Bullshit!" Terry glared. "Nyla did it! Sh-she did it and she tricked us!"

"Allies, calm down!" Nick stood up, pointing his sword to the heavens. "We cannot sit here and argue about something we have not confirmed as the truth! We must listen to ally Barry, and-"

"I hope Aaron and Tyson realize that, if Nyla's gone, Patty's blood is on _their_ hands."

The room stopped its panic in favor of glancing towards Rose, who was crossing her legs and arms, frowning, glaring towards the tactician and pharmacist. "... You two were the ones who led us to vote for Patty. And, Tyson, you were the one who pinned Julian as the culprit. If Nyla is gone, you two have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

"What!?" Aaron grimaced, taken aback. "You _bitch!_ I thought we were fine!"

"We _were_ fine, up until the possibility of Patty not being the killer came up." Rose spoke coldly, twirling her hair. "If she's not here, then she escaped. And you two killed Patty."

"Rose, you're being ridiculous." Tyson glared. "Aaron and I were just trying to find the truth! At least _we_ didn't make obviously wrong accusations and then spend the rest of the trial doing _nothing_!"

"And at least _I_ don't have Julian and Patty's blood on my hands." Rose slammed her hands onto the table, glaring towards the tactician. "Once is an accident, Tyson. Twice? You're looking _very_ unreliable."

"W-Well at least he _tries_ t-to do something!" Harold glared. "Y-You… Y-You just y-yell at the w-wrong people and make t-trouble!"

April laughed, glaring towards Harold with a grin, tapping her fingers against the table. "Oh, so now the fucking _executioner_ is going to lecture people? That's fucking priceless!"

"At least I'm more trustworthy than all three of you combined!" Rose hissed. "Fuck you! Next time, _I'm_ in charge, got it?"

"... Y-You want there to be a next time, don't you?" Terry frowned, flicking his wrist. "I-I bet… You can't wait for the next murder… S-So you can 'prove yourself' or something."

Rose glared, a fire in her eyes as she looked to Terry. "Go to hell-"

"ALRIGHT!" Arthur yelled, crossing his arms. "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Silence. The orator's loud voice had stunned the others into silence. Arthur frowned, looking around at everyone. Some were nervous, some were angry… But they all needed some sort of guidance. A leader. Arthur would supply that.

"Today's objective is to search for Nyla." Arthur spoke clearly, cracking his knuckles, showing some signs of strength. "We will travel throughout the day in pairs. I have already decided on the pairs. They are made so that two people will not be traveling with those they are close to, but will also not be traveling with those they hate."

"Who died and made _you_ the leader?" Dru snarked, tossing her compass up and down in her hand.

"Patty died. The Deserter died. Julian died. Rye died." Arthur glared towards Dru. "We need stability. I'm offering that."

"..." That shut Dru up quick. She grasped her compass, crossing her arms. "... F-Fine. Sorry."

Arthur crossed his arms and kept them crossed, standing up straight, looking at everyone with a sense of authority. In this moment, the orator reminded Tyson of some of the generals he had met on his travels.

"I will travel with Harold." Arthur spoke up. "We'll be the first group to check the new area for Nyla. I want Hannah and Rose to come after us as the second pair."

Harold glanced to Tyson, and the tactician shrugged. This 'pair' thing would only be happening for a day or two, so, there wasn't much reason to worry about it. He wondered who he would be paired with, though…

"I want Nick and April investigating the foyer, bedrooms, and bedroom hallway." Arthur commanded. "Aaron and Terry will check the storage room and lounge."

"Let us do our best, ally April!" Nick grinned, pounding his chestplate. April sighed, rolling her eyes and shrugging.

Aaron and Terry just looked between each other for a moment. Aaron wasn't sure how much he trusted Terry, especially with how off the handle the boy had been acting lately. Terry didn't trust anyone at this rate, and simply grumbled, crossing his arms.

Arthur continued. "I want Lola with Barry to search the ballroom and hallway. Tyson and Conchordia, you will be searching the garden and study."

Lola shrugged, not caring. Barry just grinned, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. It was nice to have some leadership around here after so much chaos.

Tyson looked to Conchordia, who looked back with a small smirk. Tyson still wasn't sure how he felt about her, so, maybe this would be a good chance to get a better read on the opera singer. Though, given the smirk he was given, Tyson figured he should expect a challenge…

"Finally, that leaves Georgia and Dru to check the manor at their own pace and explore into the later evening, when we've all retired." Arthur smirked. "Any questions?"

"So Georgia and I are, just, like… Guards?" Dru rose an eyebrow, shooting a look to the quiet Georgia. "Have you _seen_ us? I don't know how strong you think I am, but if a murderer comes for us, I think we're done for."

"Relax. A murderer would be insane to go for the both of you. So long as you keep your wits about you, you will be fine." Arthur adjusting his cravat with confidence, a grin on his face. "Besides, my sister is _much_ stronger than you are giving her credit for! She knows judo."

Georgia simply winked. Dru sighed, slumping her shoulders. "Whatever."

"Now, you are all free to continue eating breakfast…" Arthur smiled. "But, if Harold feels up to it, we should go explore immediately! The faster we find Nyla, the better."

"And if we don't find her…" Rose glared towards Tyson and Aaron again. "You are _not_ being let go easily…."

Aaron simply flipped Rose off with both hands, not caring for her attitude. Terry rubbed his forehead, growing nervous, while Tyson simply frowned, not letting anyone know what he was thinking.

Internally, though, Tyson was glaring daggers. Rose needed to go. She was causing nothing but trouble for him-

"Come, now, Tyson, let's go find Nyla!" Conchordia smiled, tugging on the tactician's arm. She seemed peppy, ready to move within an instant. "Why waste time on Rose? Let's go!"

Rose let out a 'tch', annoyed. Tyson nodded, following the opera singer out of the dining hall. As much as he was wary of her, the tactician was grateful for the chance to get out of there.

Terry let out a small sigh. "I-I really don't want to be here anymore… A-Aaron?"

The pharmacist groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "... F-Fine. Nick, be careful out there. Terry and I are leaving."

"You've got it!" Nick beamed, his hands on his hips. But, first, he needed more breakfast! And April actually needed to eat something…

Lola sighed, getting out of his chair. "Come on, Barry. Let's go."

"Hey, I haven't even finished my food yet!" Barry called, but Lola didn't stop moving. "Ah… What a cruel dame! Fine, ol' Barry's coming!" The boy grinned, jumping out of his seat and darting after her.

Hannah frowned, playing with her hair gently. "... U-Um…. We.. We don't have to go anywhere until you've calmed down, Rose…" She gulped, hating the fact that she got paired with one of the scarier people in the room. Rose shrugged, biting into her food, taking her time.

* * *

"So… Nyla is gone, isn't she?~"

Tyson sighed as Conchordia asked that question _right_ when they walked into the garden. "Maybe, maybe not. We need to look for her, that's the point." He played dumb, glancing around the bushes. Of course, he knew Nyla wouldn't show up anywhere, but he pretended to look anyway.

Conchordia just giggled. "So you think she might still be inside the manor…?" She twirled around Tyson, getting in front of him with a sly smile. Her body moved like liquid, stepping from one spot to the next around the tactician. "So you don't believe she killed the Deserter?"

"No, of course not." Tyson rolled his eyes, doing his best not to look nervous. "Why, do you?"

Conchordia smirked. "I already said I had a gut feeling during the trial… I thought Nyla was the killer. But then, you seemed to be so intent on piling suspicion onto Patty…" She flipped her hair, getting closer to Tyson. The boy was starting to get incredibly uncomfortable… Conchordia might have been at least a head shorter than Tyson, but, there was barely an inch between them now, and the mix of closeness _and_ tension was starting to get to him.

"That… Was because Patty seemed the most suspicious to me…" Tyson's cheeks turned pink as he did his best to keep calm. "That's it. But I might have made a mistake. And…. I am sorry for that."

"A 'mistake', hmm…?" Conchordia giggled. "You're so interesting…~"

She turned away from him, though, giving Tyson some room to breathe again as she looked around the garden. "Well, let's keep looking!"

Tyson let out a sigh of relief. Holy hell, Conchordia was intimidating. He wasn't sure if she had caught onto him or whether she was just testing him to see if he would crack… Either way, the fact that he was being called 'interesting' made him feel like he was just some kind of test subject to her. It was.. Disturbing. But he continued on, pretending to look for Nyla with Conchordia.

* * *

Arthur and Harold quickly found themselves in the theater that Tyson and April had explored earlier. Arthur smiled brightly, poking around, seeming excited to be here. "Ah, a theater! A stage! Now _this_ is a place I am familiar with…"

"S-So you made a lot o-of speeches, Arthur?" Harold jumped up, onto the stage, glancing around. "I-I mean… Y-You're an orator, r-right…?"

"That I am!" Arthur grinned. "I made plenty of speeches throughout high school. I was also on the debate team! My sister and I would make the perfect duo, Harold. She would write the words, and I would speak them to the world!"

Harold nodded. That made sense. It also explained their whole 'pass notes and talk' gimmick.

"So, Harold…" Arthur scratched his chin. "To be honest with you, I actually wanted to ask you a question about yesterday. Do you remember the potted plant dilemma?"

Harold blinked, scratching his neck nervously. "U-Uh, yes…? I-Isn't that what w-we used to convict Patty..?"

Arthur nodded, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. "I'll be honest, Harold. I think Nyla is gone. Which means _someone else_ must have dug up that flower… And do you think Nyla could have done it?"

"..." Harold frowned, putting a finger to his lips as he thought to himself. "... W-Well… Maybe? It'd be tough, but… N-Not impossible."

Arthur sighed, shrugging. "Well…. Alright, then. But we should consider the possibility that Nyla could have had an accomplice."

"An accomplice?" Harold blinked. "What…? Wh-why would she have an accomplice…?"

"Because I agree with Rose." Arthur admitted with a frown. "Tyson and Aaron pushed for Patty's execution, and yet, they were wrong. It's possible one of them helped her."

Harold gulped. "R-Really…? Don't you think that's, u-um… Farfetched? A-Aaron was only d-drawing a logical conclusion, a-and… Tyson w-was doing his best…"

"..." Arthur pondered Harold's response, putting his hand up to his chin, his body language stiff. He seemed unsure. "... Well… Perhaps. But we should look out for the two of them just in case. I don't fully trust them."

Harold nodded his head. "R-Right… Uh, I-I'll be careful."

This was bad. Suspicion was starting to fall towards Tyson and Aaron… Harold couldn't allow this to continue. If people lost faith in Tyson, his plans would be much harder to pull off…

He had to talk to Tyson at some point, alone. But with this pair system, it would be very hard to pull that off… Harold sighed, just hoping that Tyson could fair on his own.

* * *

Barry was searching the ballroom with Lola. It was a relatively quick search as far as looking for a person went, but, they had decided to double-check for any exits or secrets.

"So, uh, are you feeling any better after yesterday?" Barry smiled to Lola. "We could really use you, y'know. We can use all the level-headed help we can get!"

"I'm fine." Lola sighed, checking under the same table for what she felt must have been the fourth time. "Last night was just… Bad. I'm fine now."

"Just take care of yourself, alright, dame?" Barry shrugged with a small smile, watching her at work. "You've got people who care about ya out there! You've gotta do 'em proud!"

"..." Lola let out a little 'tch'. If only he knew. "Whatever."

Barry let out a small sigh, but still smiled, hoping he was getting through to her. He went back to searching, checking under another table, taking out his notepad and pen and writing something down in it.

He wished he could tell her what he knew. But, he figured he didn't want to make her anymore agitated than she already was. Shrugging to himself, Barry finished his writing, getting back to this repetitive search…

* * *

It was around noon when all of the teams had arrived back in the dining hall. Harold volunteered to cook this time, baking some pork and vegetables. The rest had eaten the food with relatively little complaint. Even Terry, who had accused Barry of slipping poison in hot cocoa yesterday, had given in and started to eat.

"So.. No Nyla?" Hannah gulped, fearing the worst.

"No Nyla." Aaron sighed, putting his hands behind the back of his head. "Which means we were wrong again."

" _You_ were wrong again." Rose hissed. "You and Tyson were the ones who-"

Barry glared. "Calm yourself, dame. You're not making this any easier on anyone."

"Fuck you, Barry." Rose glared daggers, her hair seeming to stand up on end as she balled her hands up into fists. "They made us vote wrong! Tyson made us vote wrong _twice_! Am I the only one who's going to hold them responsible for that!?"

"You accused the wrong people, too, y-you hypocrite!" Terry glared, flicking his wrist. "S-Stop acting like they're the o-only people who did anything wrong!"

"Honestly, people." Dru sighed, fiddling with her compass, looking down. "Can't we have at least a couple more hours to pick our sanity back up before we start accusing each other?"

"Y-Yeah!" Hannah piped up, actually inserting herself into an argument for once. "Th-this is… Just silly! W-we have to work together, not argue…"

Rose grimaced. "I'm not trying to _argue._ I'm just pointing out that we can't trust those two anymore."

"Fine." Aaron rolled his eyes. "But only if you admit that _you're_ not trustworthy, either!" He pointed. "Because all you spout at every trial is _bullshit_!"

Conchordia laughed. "She wouldn't admit that!~ She's just too prideful…" The opera singer smirked. "Prideful, and with nothing to be proud of… That must _hurt._ "

Rose Major just kept her head down now, grumbling. She couldn't take this lack of power and authority on her part...

 _Next_ time… Next time, she… She would prove herself…

"Well, ignoring that outburst…" Arthur sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. "It does seem that we were wrong again. Nyla is gone, meaning we have let two murderers free. While that certainly _is_ frightening, I am sure that if we stay calm, work together, and keep in the pairs I assigned, we can prevent anymore murders _and_ , if one occurs, we can solve it with ease."

"I agree with ally Arthur! We must keep ourselves organized!" Nick smiled, pounding his fists together. "We may have lost six of us… But we are still strong! We can work together to keep ourselves alive!"

Georgia was writing something down, passing it to her brother. Arthur read it, nodding to himself. "... So, the pairs may explore wherever they'd like for the rest of the day, but, please, try to stay together. We need to keep ourselves safe."

"Got it, commander." Dru sighed, rolling her eyes. She didn't seem to like being bossed around, though. She looked away, her arms crossed, twirling her hair like she wasn't even caring for whatever else anyone else was saying.

Once everyone was done with lunch, they all went their separate ways, with pairs sticking together as ordered.

* * *

Tyson and Conchordia headed up the second floor, finding two other pairs there.

"Tyson, we need to talk." Aaron frowned, pushing up his glasses. "Things are getting serious."

"Yes! Let us go to the war room to speak!" Nick grinned. "April, Terry, Conchordia! May you three join us?"

"We kind of have to, anyway." April sighed, scratching her cheek.

Terry gulped, fidgeting with his camera. "R-Right… We need to talk. L-Let's move."

"This sounds interesting~" Conchordia smirked. "Come, Tyson!"

"I'm not your dog, Conchordia." Tyson deadpanned, following after the group. What was this all about…?

Once the six were inside the war room, Aaron closed the doors, sitting at the far end of the table. "I think we all can agree Rose is a threat."

"Hear hear. That bitch is crazy." April rose her hand. "Are we gonna, like, tie her up or something?... I can tie her up."

"Don't let April tie her up, please." Tyson rubbed his forehead. "I don't think we'll like the results of that…"

"Don't fucking cockblock me, Tyson!" April pouted, crossing her arms. Terry seemed disturbed, moving a seat away from April.

"... Riiiight…" Aaron pushed up his glasses, letting out an annoyed sigh as he tried to recompose himself. "We're not going to tie her up. We just need to discuss what we _should_ do about her. She's using Tyson and I to try and gain some credibility in the group again, and if we have a dumbass like that in charge, we're all _fucked._ "

Conchordia smirked, twirling her hair. "As fun as taking Rose's credibility down further than it already is _sounds_ … Do you really think she is in any position to get people to listen to her, considering the first two trials?"

"L-Lola's on her side." Terry frowned. "D-Dru, uh, seems like she'll listen to her, too… Hannah would probably just follow whoever's shouting the loudest…" He flicked his wrist, gripping it.

Tyson nodded. "She still has influence. So long as she has people who are willing to listen to her, she will be a danger to us. Not to mention, she's basically got immunity for murders."

"Tyson's right." Aaron frowned. "That's a point I wanted to bring up. Rose is so damn stupid, she won't die. That's how this works now."

"Oh!" Nick caught on. "So, if a killer wants to get away with their crime, they would kill the smart ones! Then, Aaron, you should act like an idiot! To guarantee your safety!"

Aaron pinched his forehead. "... Thanks for the idea, Nick, but, I don't think anyone's going to buy that I've suddenly turned into an idiot."

Conchordia let out a small sigh, tapping her fingers on the table. "So our problem is that Rose has both influence and security. So, wouldn't the best way to protect ourselves from her lunacy be to convince any others she has under her influence that she is not to be trusted?"

"Lola and Dru, then." Aaron bit his lip. "If we could get them to see that Rose is full of nothing but shit, we could keep this manor under control."

"Hmm… Interesting." Conchordia smiled, looking to Tyson. "Well? What do _you_ think?" Her eyes seemed to sparkle with curiosity. "What would be best for you?"

"..." Tyson coughed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Conchordia was just making him feel more and more uncomfortable. "Well…" He looked around the table at the expectant faces. "I think that the most peaceful way to go about this would be to talk to Lola and Dru. But I also think we should give this a day or two. Dru has shown signs of not trusting Rose, and, I think we should consider that Lola might not trust her anymore either…"

"So we could be worried over nothing." Terry frowned. "R-Rose might not matter at all…"

"We will give it some time, then." Aaron adjusted his gloves. "But, I think we should start tomorrow. We never know when another murder may occur."

"At least we can trust each other not to kill, right?" Nick beamed. "All of you seem very level-headed and strong! Arthur and Georgia seem reliable! I have complete faith in so many people here!"

April sighed. "This poor guy is just _begging_ to be disappointed…"

Tyson shook his head, standing up. "Well, that's all we needed to discuss, right? Let's split up. We don't want to seem suspicious. The last thing we need is a loss of influence over the group."

"No kidding… W-We have to be careful." Terry bit his lip. "Y-You know, I always thought Rose was kind of scary, but… N-Now I really think she's dangerous…"

"Do you think Hannah will be okay with her?" April wondered, getting out of her chair. "Maybe some of us should, uh, _watch_ them…?"

"Oh! Tyson and I can do that!" Conchordia smirked. "I'm very quiet… What about you, Tyson?"

Tyson resisted the urge to groan. Spending more time alone with Conchordia was not at all what he wanted today. "... Alright, fine. We can keep an eye on them."

Conchordia clapped. "Wonderful! Let's go!~ I think they're in the foyer!"

"Wait, how could you know-"

"Woman's intuition, Tyson! Let's go!"

* * *

Lola and Barry darted into the theater, closing the doors behind them.

"Well, looks like you're a priority for that gang!" The journalist laughed. "Don't you feel special, dame?"

"Shut up." Lola sighed, heading towards the stage. "I can't believe people are still plotting around like this is some kind of game. I know Rose seems untrustworthy, but… Who _wouldn't_ be losing their mind after all of this death…?"

Barry smirked, rubbing his goatee. "I like to think I'm still sane, thank you very much!~"

"Thaaaat's debatable." Lola twirled her gun around in her hand, sitting up on the stage. "So, what do you think of those six? Do you think any of them will try anything?"

"Can't say I trust Terry much." Barry admitted, relaxing in one of the theater's seats, putting his feet up on the chair in front of him. "I think the fella's genuinely losing it every day… I think we can trust Aaron, Nick, and Tyson, though. That gang might've been wrong a few times, but they're smart. They've got their heads on straight, for the most part."

He adjusted his reporter's cap, looking to Lola with a smile. "What about you? Penny for your thoughts?"

"Mm…" Lola considered this, pushing her sunglasses up before putting a finger to her lips. "... Well, I can see where they're coming from with distrusting Rose. But the three you mentioned… Especially with Tyson and Aaron, I feel they're _too_ calm. As though not much has been able to faze them this whole time."

"Aaron can snap easily." Barry remembered. "But Tyson… Not much bothers that kid, huh?"

Lola bit her thumb. "Remember when we first suspected Nyla might have left?... Tyson hardly bat an eye… And _he_ was the one to accuse Patty the most…"

"Do you think he had something to do with it?" Barry smirked, rubbing his goatee. "It'd make sense… He's a tactician. He could probably plot a murder in his sleep."

Lola sighed, shrugging. "There's reason to suspect him, but… The murder itself was too hasty. And I don't see why Tyson would put together all of that for Nyla when he hardly even _knew_ Nyla. I could see him helping Harold get away with murder because they seem to be friends, but he had hardly talked to Nyla by the time the Deserter had been killed."

"And there's the chance we're being paranoid." Barry smirked. "Maybe Tyson is just the type not to crack under pressure? Tacticians are probably like that…"

Lola twirled her gun in her hand, inspecting it nervously. "... Maybe. We'll have to see. Either way, I wouldn't trust him."

Barry tipped his hat. He had to agree… Tyson was not to be trusted. Then again, half of the people around here couldn't be trusted in Barry's eyes. He was lucky to have someone like Lola he could at least put some faith in.

It felt like things were going to be slow for some time, though. Barry hadn't found anymore articles (he had expected some about Jeremiah, the Deserter, and Patty), and with tensions rising, these next few days were going to be very long…

* * *

It had indeed been a long day. After following Rose and Hannah around for longer than Tyson would like to admit (he felt like a damn stalker), he had gotten some food and decided to turn in early. Conchordia decided to join him.

No, really, she decided to _join_ him.

"Conchordia, get out of my room." Tyson groaned, laying on his bed. "This isn't decent."

"I don't want to get yelled at by Arthur for breaking the 'pair' rule!~" Conchordia smirked, poking around his room. "Mmm… Nothing out of the ordinary…"

"Did you think I had some kind of secret compartment or something in here…?" The tactician yawned, crossing his arms. "I don't. Now you can leave."

"Well, I'm just looking for Jeremiah and Nyla!" Conchordia poked her head into his bathroom. "After all… They could be in here…"

"Oh, yes. Great deduction, Conchordia. I've had them in my room the whole time, we're just having a slumber party." Tyson rolled his eyes.

Conchordia smirked. "That sounds like fun, actually!~ We should-"

"No." Tyson sighed. "Seriously, get out of my room."

"Aww…" Conchordia pouted. "What would get you to like me, Tyson? What if I sung a song?"

The tactician rubbed his forehead. "Look, Conchordia, I'm… I'm fine without a song. And you're alright with me. Just let me sleep."

"..." The singer let out a small sigh, brushing her hair. "... You just don't understand, Tyson Jin… Oh well. I'll see you tomorrow~"

And, thank the stars, she left his room. Tyson groaned, stuffing his face into a pillow. What had happened over the course of the past couple of days? Why was Conchordia so interested in him? Did she have a genuine crush? Or maybe she knew about what he did?

He just couldn't figure her out… And it was _scaring_ him…

"If there's a god, I hope they give me strength…" Tyson spoke aloud, lying on his back. "Because I think I'm going to go fucking crazy here."

* * *

Tyson Jin woke up.

He wasn't sure what time it was, nor did he truly care. He had such a strange dream last night… Shaking it off, the tactician did his morning rituals, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, doing what he could to keep his life at least somewhat normal.

He put on a fresh red shirt, tan vest, and pants as he looked at himself in the mirror, frowning. He was so, so tired… And yet, he couldn't go back to sleep just yet. He felt he should go out and get some breakfast. He was hungry.

Leaving his room, Tyson stopped, standing still. He narrowed his eyes, listening…

Was that… _Singing?_

Yes, it was ever-so-light, but Tyson could have sworn he heard singing coming from somewhere in the manor. He went down the stairs, towards the foyer, hearing it grow just a bit louder as he got closer…

The melody was wonderful and soft. The voice was feminine and sweet. He could hear the voice reach such high notes, notes that he could hear from so far away. They amazed him. Tyson had never heard singing so beautiful…

He felt himself being pulled along by the song. He first considered going to the garden, but stopped as he found the song got quieter as he went there. He turned around, walking towards the staircase room, finding that the singing got louder as he moved along…

Tyson didn't question this, was the amazing part. The singer's voice was just too beautiful. He had to go see her. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty, he felt himself shaking as he nervously walked through that final hallway. The song got louder. The singer's voice was more clear, and Tyson could now be completely sure who was singing…

The tactician put his hands on the doors to the theater, his heart beat getting heavy… What was going on? Why was he getting nervous? He grimaced, but shook his head, pushing the doors apart so that he could hear the full beauty of Conchordia's song.

 _E strano!... Ah, forse lui…._

Tyson's eyes widened. There was Conchordia, in a beautiful white dress, spinning around on the stage, singing to her heart's content. She had a voice that still captivated him, still made him move ever closer, wanting to hear more…

… And yet, as he moved closer, Tyson got more nervous. Something was _wrong_. Very wrong. Conchordia was singing, but there were two people up there with her. No. No, they weren't standing up there.

They. They were floating. They were levitated above the ground, above Conchordia. How? Ropes? He saw ropes. Ropes connected to the catwalk above.

Oh, no. No no no…

 _Sempre libera!~_

No no no no no no no….

They weren't floating. They were hanging. Hanging. Hanging while Conchordia sang and danced and smiled and winked and spun her beautiful dress around.

Drip. Drip went the red blood that came from the two bodies above. Tyson was shaking like a leaf now. He realized that Conchordia was dancing between two red puddles of blood. She was careful not to step in either of them.

 _Sempre libera!~_

Tyson grimaced as he realized who they were. His heart stopped as he realized that, for the third time in this accursed manor, a murder had occurred…

Arthur and Georgia York were both hanging there, dead.

They had become the unwilling set pieces of Conchordia's opera.

Conchordia smirked to Tyson as she finished her performance, spinning in place before taking a long, deep bow.

"Good morning, Tyson Jin!~... Impressed by my performance?"

* * *

Tyson's world was falling apart. He just never expected this. Out of all of his careful planning, deliberate consideration, and masterminding of this game… He never suspected that someone else would kill before he would get the chance to plan a murder of his own.

The worst part was that Monokuma, again, didn't even need to give them a motive. They simply killed. They knew the rules of the game, and they killed and killed and killed…

But why? Survival, of course. To survive. Kill, and you survive. Don't kill, and your chances of survival go down and down and down…

But he was never expecting this. He thought he could control everything. Tyson genuinely believed that every piece on the chessboard was set perfectly, and that he could control everyone… But Conchordia was the one piece he didn't understand. And that single piece just _fucked_ him.

In a single motion, the tactician fell to his knees, opening his hands and letting his palms hit the ground as he tried to steady himself, grimacing, his stomach curling at the scent of the blood and death in this room…

"Conchordia…" Tyson's breathing was unsteady. His voice trembled. "... What the _fuck_ … Did you do?" He looked up at her… And she was still smiling, standing straight now, looking down at the sole audience member of this accursed opera.

"I saved some lives. And, in exchange, I took some lives away." The opera singer giggled with a small smirk. "Isn't that what you've been doing this whole time?~"

Tyson flinched at that. That question hit the tactician at his very core. He shuddered, unsure of himself…

So Conchordia _did_ know about what he had done. But, how was what she did similar to what he did? His actions might have been awful, but he saved Nyla's _life._ What had Conchordia done? Kill one person more than necessary, all to save her own life?

"Th-this is _not_ the same thing." Tyson growled, getting to his feet, although he still felt wobbly and disoriented. It was hard to stand up straight under all of this pressure… "I saved a life… And traded two lives for it. You're… What are you going to do? Trade three lives to save your own?"

Conchordia smirked. "I saved Dru and Harold, too. They would have died, if it weren't for me."

What? What was that? Tyson's eyes widened. "... What in the hell are you talking about…?"

The opera singer giggled, pulling out a notebook. "Would you believe me if I told you, myself…? Here! This is the proof~"

She threw the notebook to Tyson, who caught it in the air and flipped through it with haste. He recognized it quickly as Georgia's notebook… And in the middle pages, he found some very disturbing writing.

 _We have to get out of here._

 _Do you know how unlikely it is that we will survive without killing?_

 _They have been wrong about the killer twice now. We could get away with murders._

 _It would not be our faults! It is the game. It is Monokuma._

 _You have a plan?_

 _We will kill whoever is in our pairs then. Who do we frame?_

 _That is a good idea. Nobody trusts Rose. Hannah has no friends. It would be easy. Our word against theirs._

"Holy shit…" Tyson gulped. "They… They were going to kill Dru and Harold…!"

Conchordia smirked, sitting on the edge of the stage. "And the tactician pieces it together!~... I saved their lives. If I hadn't kill Arthur and Georgia, and you had kept _waiting_ -" She practically spat that word, 'waiting', out. "- they would have died."

"How did you find out about this?" He grimaced. "Georgia never parts with her notebook."

The opera singer shrugged softly. "To be honest?... I only found out after I took her life. But, it works out, doesn't it?"

That was all kinds of wrong. Tyson grimaced, holding his head, sighing. "Why, then…? Why kill them? Th-they…"

Conchordia leaned over from her spot on the stage to put her hand on Tyson's shoulder. "Hey, now… Why are you scared? Aren't you supposed to be calm? Coordinated? I had expected a little more from you…"

Tyson flinched… But, the crazy one was right. He needed to calm down and think. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes…

 **Arthur and Georgia were going to kill Dru and Harold. Conchordia, however, did not know this until after she killed them. So why? What was her motive?**

 **If Tyson assumed that Conchordia knew about what he had done- and it seemed quite obvious that she did- then it's possible she wanted to send a message. She had killed Arthur and Georgia and displayed their bodies in such a fantastical way, after all… Hanging their bodies by a catwalk while she danced between them, singing some opera song or another…**

 **What was that message? What was the meaning? He couldn't puzzle it out. Maybe it was worth looking at this from another perspective.**

 **If Tyson were to commit a third murder, how would he do it while Arthur and Georgia were still alive? They had provided an orderly structure to a once-chaotic game, which would make it much harder to plot. He had even been separated by his best friend in the game, Harold, which made figuring out what to do even harder…**

 **Perhaps…**

"You… Probably killed them to send some kind of message…" Tyson rubbed his head, frowning. "A-And… To make things easier on me. Since they were the leaders, killing them makes sense. It's just logical."

"That's what I was looking for!~" Conchordia beamed, standing up and twirling in place. "I believed in you this whole time, Tyson! You're just so, so, so…" She leaned over, a devilish smirk on her face. "... Interesting…~"

Tyson shuddered, taking a step back. "... Right… Uh... " He darted his eyes, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "So, what was the message? What did you mean by all of this?"

"Well, it was really an artistic project on my part." Conchordia admitted, twirling her hair casually. "I wanted to sing and dance, but I also wanted to show you what I did for you… All of my good will, on display for you to see…" She smirked. "I thought you would fall in love with me~"

"Ah, yes, because nothing says 'love' like two hanging bodies." Tyson grimaced. "Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you? Harold calls himself a sociopath and _you_ have him beat by fucking miles! What, did you think I was going to sleep with you after this or something!?" He was outraged. Conchordia had not only killed, but she had killed completely outside his reign of control, and now she was expecting some kind of reward for doing that… For bringing this unexpected, horrible situation upon the tactician.

Conchordia considered this. "... Maybe? I know how you boys can be…" She shrugged.

Tyson groaned, rubbing his forehead. Right. This situation was just getting worse and worse. He had a maniac in love with him. That maniac had killed two people. And he probably didn't have much time to do anything with this.

He checked his ElectroID. It was 5:20 AM. He had about an hour and a half, tops.

"So... what about a kiss?" Conchordia smirked. "I think I deserve at least one for all my hard work~ I just killed two people…" She jumped off the stage, getting close to Tyson, smiling sweetly. "I'm scared and alone now… Won't you protect me, like you protected Nyla?~" She fluttered her eyes.

Tyson grimaced. "Yeah… No, I'm not kissing you." He took another step back, but Conchordia just took a step forwards. This was going to be a _long_ morning… "And… Protect you? Why? You killed two people out of line! How am I supposed to frame anyone for a murder I hardly know anything about!"

It was true. He didn't know how Conchordia lured these two out of their rooms. He could take a few guesses at how they were killed, but he didn't have a definitive answer. He would need to get all of his answers from the murderer herself, and, well… He _really_ didn't want those answers… Especially not while Conchordia was getting _even closer_ to him, causing him to shudder and place his back against the doors behind him.

"Well… Think about it~" Conchordia smirked, her voice silky and smooth as she spoke to Tyson, cupping his cheek softly with her right hand, holding his hand with her left. "There's thirteen people left, aren't there…? If you let me live here, and frame an innocent, you will be left with eleven people. If you manage to commit three murders and vote for innocents each time, you can save three more people and allow two to survive with no blood on their hands. I think I did you a favor, frankly. There had to be at least _one_ double murder."

Tyson's eyes widened. So she knew Jeremiah was alive. Even worse, she had predicted Tyson's strategy.

 **And she was completely right about there needing to be a double murder. In Tyson's first thoughts about this game, he considered having there be three people left, and having one of them commit suicide… But that would be extremely unlikely. For someone to commit suicide at that stage of the game would be insane. That meant that, to get the perfect number of people remaining, Tyson had to plan for at least one double murder. And here it was.**

 **If Conchordia's life was lost here, however, that would mean only twelve people are remaining. Another double murder would have to occur to get the numbers back on point. That meant that, instead of the six lives Tyson thought he could save after saving Nyla, he would only be able to save five… And it was unlikely that any of the murderers he would save would be willing to kill two people.**

 **This was happening, wasn't it? Tyson didn't want to save Conchordia. He knew it was wrong. But if he saved her, it would ultimately make the game more convenient for him, as he would only need to help commit and get away with three simple murders… But if she died, he would need to plan for another double murder…**

 **Plus, Conchordia might have proven herself to be a psycho, but she was still a valuable life, wasn't she? Tyson needed to save the most lives he could… And he didn't see enough reason to let her die, even if she had done this horrible thing…**

 **But… She was clearly psychotic. She was dangerous. Was it really okay to let her back into the outside world? To give her a chance to live again? Wouldn't it be better to make sure she died here?**

"I hope you're not thinking of abandoning me…" Conchordia frowned, looking down, twirling her hair loosely, seeming sad. "... I know all your secrets, after all… If you betrayed me, you might break my heart so hard…" She sniffled. "... I'd tell everyone what you've done."

 **Oh, fuck.**

Tyson winced. "... Then you're blackmailing me."

Conchordia smirked. "I wouldn't consider it 'blackmail', just.. Think of it as extra incentive to save me~" She giggled, hugging Tyson now, nuzzling gently against his chest. "And to protect me…"

Tyson Jin had never felt more uncomfortable in his _life._ He had held out this small hope that the first time he got someone to hug him so affectionately, he would enjoy it, and it would be romantic… But this was twisted. Disgusting. Conchordia was acting like his long-time girlfriend when she had just murdered two people in cold blood and left their bodies to hang above the theater's stage.

And even worse, he was being blackmailed now. If he didn't help Conchordia, then what he had done for Nyla would be exposed, and she'd probably tell everyone about Jeremiah, too… Just when things didn't seem like they could get any worse. Tyson groaned, hating this. He didn't want to help Conchordia, and yet, it seemed it was his only choice.

"... Please get off of me so I can help you get away with murder." Tyson sighed. "And explain to me what happened. I need to know how you killed them so I can frame someone else."

Conchordia smirked. "Wonderful~" She had finally gained the tactician's cooperation.

* * *

Tyson and Conchordia had gotten the bodies down. They laid in their own puddles of blood, free from the rope that had hanged them from the stage.

"We can't mess with the bodies now. Too much blood on our hands…" Tyson grimaced. "And look. You left clear traces…"

 **There were some very obvious marks on Arthur's neck and Georgia's neck. One could easily assume that a rope was used, and that they were hanged, dragged, or something similar.**

"Mmm…" Conchordia smirked. "But! I also left traces of something else! Check their arms and legs~" She giggled, excited for Tyson to find a certain surprise. The tactician's heart sunk… He really didn't want to go through with this, but he had no choice. He checked…

 **There were several small bruises on the victims' bodies, including their arms and legs.**

"How did you cause these?" Tyson frowned, looking to the opera singer, who simply smiled.

"All I had to do was use the hilt of this." She pulled out a dagger from her dress. One of the white daggers from the lounge, covered in blood. How many times were those things going to be used, anyway? "And with those bruises… I bet we could implicate Lola~"

Tyson frowned. "So you bruised the bodies post-mortem in an attempt to make it look like they were hit by her BBs, right?" He sighed, looking to the bodies. "... It could work… I guess. But it would be hard to pull off."

"They were planning to kill." Conchordia smirked. "We just have to say that they were about to kill Lola, but she acted in self-defense… Then, she saw an opportunity, and took it…"

Framing Lola would be very difficult. She had the trust of a few people, and she seemed relatively level-headed most of the time. To say that she killed two people… Tyson wasn't sure if he could pull that off, but, Conchordia seemed confident.

"Right, well…" Tyson sighed. "So, what's the cause of death? That dagger?"

"Mhm! Stabbed them both before they could even blink~" Conchordia smirked. "And I killed them here, by the way. I just had to act normal and keep the dagger behind my back… Pretty easy, huh? I wonder if Nyla had it that easy…"

"Let's not talk about it." Tyson grimaced. He looked to Arthur and Georgia, noticing several stab wounds across their bodies… Well, damn. He didn't want to think about how Conchordia pulled that off. But he had to ask at least one question. "So, what about the blood? Didn't you get blood all over you doing that..?"

"I did." Conchordia admitted. "But I put my bloody dress in a basket from backstage and took it to my room. Nobody should find it in there."

"Ah, right, that makes sense-" Tyson stopped himself. "... Wait. So, you put your bloody dress in that basket to prevent blood from dripping off onto the floor, right? That's why you wouldn't want to simply wear it to your room."

"Right." Conchordia smiled. "... Something wrong?"

 **It occurred to Tyson that this meant that, after Conchordia brutally murdered the York twins, she had to take off her dress and transport it to her room. So that meant…**

"Uh… Please tell me you put on a new dress or something?" Tyson grimaced, unable to keep his cheeks from going a little pink.

"Tyson! Of course I did!" Conchordia let out a 'hmph', crossing her arms and looking away. "There's black dresses and cloaks backstage. They conceal one's body quite well… And I used one of those while I took my dress to my room." She sighed. "Honestly. Did you really think I walked in my underwear to my room?"

"I'm not really putting anything past you at this point." Tyson admitted, rolling his eyes. "Speaking of. That was a risk, wasn't it? What if someone saw you with your bloody dress?"

The opera singer smirked. "... Well, once I exited my room earlier this morning… I noticed Arthur and Georgia weren't in their rooms… And from there, I made certain preparations to make sure nobody besides you could disturb my work."

Tyson rolled his eyes. "You aren't going to out-right tell me what you did until I go look, are you?" He called her out on her cryptic talk. Conchordia just giggled. Tyson sighed. Goddammit.

"Well, let's think…" Tyson scratched his chin. "If we leave them here and do nothing… There's only so many clues. But the rope marks will come into question, and I can guarantee you at least one person's going to think about hanging. Then there's enough confusion for nobody to be truly sure what happened, and the bruise marks can therefore be considered to be 'almost anything'. We'll need a way to make people believe a certain story about all of this."

"Mmm…" Conchordia smirked. "Buuuut… If we left things along now, wouldn't there only be a one in twelve chance of them picking me…? Those are good odds."

Tyson groaned, rubbing his temple. "Not good enough. Because there's also a one in twelve chance they'll pick me. And a one in twelve chance they'll pick Harold… Which means we have a three in twelve chance of a bad outcome. I want the best outcome, which would involve all three of us _not_ dying."

Conchordia shrugged. "That makes sense… But, even still, what do you suggest? I can't imagine they'll fall for another "potted plant" trick…"

 **That was right. Tyson couldn't just plant some evidence and call it a day. He needed to make absolutely sure that people would believe a certain scenario, using actions as evidence…**

 **So what could he do? It was possible to cause a panic of some sort, but… There were a lot of variables to consider. Tyson needed to give this time.**

"Well, give me some time to think." The boy sighed. "Let's go to the bedrooms. I want to see what trick you used to make sure I was the only one who'd come out of his room."

"Right behind you!~" Conchordia beamed, following the boy a little _too_ closely. Tyson's patience was getting worse and worse… He couldn't believe he had to help this girl get away with murder.

Almost every part of what weak morality Tyson had left wanted him to pin Conchordia as the murderer and let her burn. But she had blackmail over his head. Not only was there little reason to let Conchordia die in the first place, she had vital information that she could use to expose him and his plans, making it _much_ harder to help murderers escape in the future.

This… Was going to be a long, looooong morning…

* * *

Arriving in the bedroom hall, Tyson's first thought was to head straight for the lever room that he and April had discovered yesterday. Walking up to the metallic door, he watched it open for him and stepped inside…

There, Tyson found a rather long metallic pipe hanging from several short ropes. Each rope was tied to the end of a lever, pulling it down and keeping it down. The only levers that were not tied to this pipe were Conchordia's and Tyson's.

"Well, that's awfully convenient." Tyson crossed his arms. "But how will we get rid of _this_ evidence…?"

Conchordia smirked. "It shouldn't be hard. One we decide to open the doors again, we just need to push the pipe off and go to our rooms… They won't be able to figure out that your lever and mine were the only ones not pulled using this trick."

Tyson frowned, checking the levers. He carefully examined Julian's, noticing a few scratch marks…

"No, they'll be able to tell. The ropes are scratching the metal of the levers." Tyson sighed, untying Julian's rope and using it to tie his own lever to the pipe. He did the same for Rye and Conchordia. "We need to make sure they have no way of tracing this to us."

Conchordia smirked, impressed. "How interesting!~ You have a better eye than I, Tyson Jin…"

"Yeah. If I weren't here, you'd be dead. Remember that." The tactician hissed, frowning.

The opera singer simply laughed. "I understand… I'll do all I can to make it up to you in the future~" She smirked, leaning in to give Tyson a kiss on the cheek; the boy deftly dodged, hurriedly passing her.

"Come on, there's more to do." Tyson grumbled. Conchordia sighed, following after him.

 _He would understand her eventually._

 _He had to._

* * *

Tyson got to work with more plotting and planning. Firstly, he took a bucket from the storage room and filled it with water from the kitchen, spilling that water all around the entrance to the theater, making it look as though someone had cleaned a scene there. This would make it seem as though the York twins were killed just inside the theater.

"We want to make it look like they ambushed someone for a kill." Tyson bit his lip. "But that person fought back. Lola would be perfect to frame for that."

He took a page out of the notebook Conchordia had given him. Georgia's own writing would be used here…

 _We have to get out of here._

 _Do you know how unlikely it is that we will survive without killing?_

 _They have been wrong about the killer twice now. We could get away with murders._

 _It would not be our faults! It is the game. It is Monokuma._

 _You have a plan?_

There. Placing that in-between their bodies, Tyson headed backstage.

"What are you looking for?" Conchordia smiled, following him. "What are you planning? You're working so fast, Tyson!~ I want to know!"

"Well, this next part's going to be tough…" Tyson frowned. "And we won't be able to talk anymore after it."

Conchordia frowned. "That's a shame… I've quite enjoyed our date~"

"This isn't a date. And I don't like you. Like, at all." Tyson rolled his eyes. "Now then… How good are you at running, Conchordia?"

"... What?"

* * *

Barry was finally able to open his damn door. It had taken a while, though.. He thought it was stuck for a few minutes there. But when he finally got it open, he was surprised to notice two figures in black, blood-stained cloaks rushing past him and down the steps.

"Get back here!" He heard Lola yell, rushing past him…

Oh. Well then. This was going to be an interesting morning, wasn't it?

"I'm right behind ya, dame!" The journalist grinned, slamming his door behind him and jumping down the stairs to the foyer. Barry was all for a good chase! He had caught up to Lola quite quickly, but the two found themselves at a branching path once the cloaked figures- one man and one woman, from what they could tell- headed to the garden and to the stairwell, respectively.

"You go right!" Lola shouted, darting to the left, where the garden was. Barry nodded, rushing to the right, making a sharp turn to follow the dame in the bloody dress.

Lola shoot several times at the man she was pursuing, but besides a few winces, she couldn't get him to fall. Grimacing, she did her best to reload as she made it into the garden, watching the figure she was after jump to a window on the second floor, climbing up and into it.

Oh, _fuck_ no. They weren't getting away from her!

Lola noticed a stool near the window; that was likely what the figure used to get up so fast. She jumped on top of it, jumping to the window with ease, pulling herself up and continuing the chase!

Barry jumped up the stairwell, nearly managing to grip onto a flowing part of the dame's bloody dress. Damn! He grinned, moving as fast as he could to keep up, laughing, finding this to be quite a bit of fun.

"Don't think you can run forever, dame!" He smirked. "Barry Berry's an expert in pursuing women! Hahaha!"

That was a joke, of course. Though it started to occur to him that maybe the girl ahead of him didn't enjoy that joke, seeing as she was now tossing flower pots and dressers down onto the floor as she ran away, giving Barry plenty of things to dodge.

They rushed into the hallway that circled the garden, and the girl jumped out an open window… And onto a wire. She slid across the wire, jumping into an open window on the other side.

"Oh, so that's how it is!" Barry smirked. "I can do this!"

He jumped out the window, landing on the wire, doing his best to keep his balance as he walked across…

Only to notice that the girl ahead of him had a pair of scissors.

Oh.

Scissors.

Barry's ultimate weakness.

The wire was cut, and Barry yelled as he landed on top of a bush in the garden, groaning.

Meanwhile, Lola chased her figure through a long, thin hallway into the war room. She had no idea that the lady in the black, bloody dress had just darted into the theater behind her. She was too focused on the figure she was chasing.

She shot a few more times, prompting an 'ow', but not much more. Once in the war room, the suspect dashed into another door, into another long, thin hallway… This was just wasting Lola's time! The sharpshooter got increasingly agitated as she rushed after him…

And found herself too late as the suspect rushed into the theater, closing the door behind them. She tried to open the doors, only to find them locked.

"These doors have… Fucking locks!?" Lola was grimacing, getting panicked. Who was that!? Why were they bloody!? Goddammit! She ran back, deciding to find something to bust the door down…

"... Ow… Fucking ow…" Tyson grimaced. "I've… Never experienced more pain in my fucking life… I-I think she hit me where it counts…"

"Aww! I was hoping to use that later." Conchordia smiled innocently.

"I fucking hate you… So much…" The tactician winced, groaning. "Hurry. We need to put these on Arthur and Georgia…"

* * *

Barry had been surprised to find the theater doors locked. Brushing himself off, he ran away, deciding to find Lola and see if she was alright.

…

This was Tyson and Conchordia's chance to dart out of the theater, taking the hallway around the garden. All they had to do now was sneak back to their rooms while Lola and Barry were on high alert.

Yeah. That would totally be easy.

 **The plan was moving smoothly so far, though. They had gotten two people out of their rooms, had them chase two mysterious figures, and kept them separated. Now, Lola might buy into the idea that Barry had gotten inside of the theater first, or vice versa, and that one of them killed Arthur and Georgia.**

 **The only problem was that this plan essentially made it so that, if they couldn't prove one of those two killed the York twins, things would go downhill fast…**

Tyson and Conchordia dropped down into the garden as Barry and Lola moved up the staircase, bringing a couple of chairs to break the doors down.

"This is so exciting!~" Conchordia's eyes were shining. "This is the most fun I've _ever_ had, Tyson! Oh, I love you! I love you so much!~" She giggled, hugging him.

"Please get off of me…" Tyson grumbled, checking the hallway. "Come on, we need to get back into our rooms…"

"Awww, can't we talk a little longer-"

"Fuck no, let's move."

Conchordia pouted, but followed the tactician back to their rooms.

* * *

The moment they had entered their rooms, the body discovery announcement rang twice in a row.

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

Barry and Lola had found the bodies.

"Sweet lord…" Barry took off his hat, grimacing, putting it to his chest. "Th-they're… Both…"

"At least they died together. They can rest in peace..." Lola flinched. "But… Damn… Who would do this?" She kept her gun close, completely disturbed by the scene on the stage.

"We need to round up the rest of the gang." Barry grit his teeth. "Fast."

The two darted out of the theater. While they were both starting to get tired of running, the adrenaline of seeing two more dead bodies kept them going.

* * *

Tyson had finally arrived at the theater. He had pretended to still be sleeping when his doorbell rang about fifty times. When he had exited the room, he found that he was one of the last up, and that most of the others were already headed to the crime scene.

Now here, the tactician was surprised at how many people were investigating this time. Last time, Rose and Terry had the room on lockdown, and Monokuma had given them less time… This time, it was as though everyone was trying to do their part.

Terry, April, Hannah, and Dru were on the stage with the dead bodies. Rose, Lola, Barry, and Conchordia were discussing something near the corner of the room. Aaron, Nick, and Harold were checking around the stage and backstage…

Well… It was time to get to 'work'. Tyson adjusted his shirt, coughing, pretending to ready himself for investigation. He would have to act busy, or he'd attract suspicion…

Only Conchordia and himself knew the truth. Tyson frowned, balling his hands up into fists, preparing himself for a long fight. Pinning this on Lola or Barry wouldn't be easy… But he needed to do it. Not just for Conchordia, but for himself, and any other murderers he could save in the future!

 **-=INVESTIGATION START=-**

Tyson decided to speak with the group of four in the corner, first. Hearing what Barry and Lola thought of that chase would be beneficial to any lies the tactician decided to tell during the trial.

"Hey." He frowned (he was considering smiling, but, that would probably be strange given that two of their friends were recently murdered) and crossed his arms. "Does anyone have any idea what happened here?"

"Barry and I chased a couple of figures in a black cloak and dress this morning." Lola shook her head, pushing her sunglasses up. "Barry claims to have lost the one in the dress. I saw the cloaked one enter the theater and lock the doors. I immediately went back to find something to bust the doors down with…"

"A few minutes after an, uh, _unfortunate_ fall in the garden…" Barry laughed off awkwardly, adjusting his hat, cheeks pink with embarrassment. "I found Lola in the dining hall, ready to bust the doors down with a big ol' chair! I joined her, of course!"

Lola nodded. "We went to the theater, but found the doors unlocked... And, well, you know the rest. We discovered the bodies as they are now."

"But neither of you could keep track of the other during this event?" Tyson concluded. "You had a few minutes before you saw each other again."

Rose pouted. "S-Sure, but, uh… There's a lot that the culprits had to have done, right? There's some wet spots near the entrance of the theater… The culprit had to kill, clean up blood, drag bodies, and lay them on the stage in a few minutes if we suspect Barry or Lola…"

 **Tyson realized that was a major problem with his plan. The water. He thought that making it seem like blood was cleaned up at the entrance of the theater would be a good way of making people think the murder happened just inside the theater, but, instead, it made it harder to believe that Lola or Barry were the culprit… Dammit. He'd have to find a way around that in the class trial.**

"Right." Tyson nodded. "Is that all you have for us…?"

"Those two spooks were covered in blood, too!" Barry frowned. "They might've had something to do with the murder!"

"We can't confirm it was blood. None of it dripped." Lola admitted. "It's possible that it was just red paint."

 **At least one thing was working well. Truth be told, Tyson did use blood, but he had placed some evidence backstage, before the chase, that should make people think otherwise. If people saw black cloaks with red paint, the possibility that the cloaked people were the York twins becomes more likely.**

Conchordia smirked. "What an interesting mystery~ But why would the culprit try so hard…? We've already been wrong twice before…"

Tyson felt like throttling Conchordia for that comment. She better not be criticizing him for working hard to save her ass!... He supposed she was just acting, but, still. Some prideful part of him was hurt.

Rose grimaced. "We… We won't be wrong this time! We'll catch the culprit who killed Arthur and Georgia! We have to!"

"That's right." Lola frowned. "Killing both of them was unnecessary and unforgivable. We won't lose this time."

Tyson nodded along. "Of course we won't." But he really, really hoped they did.

Deciding that was all he needed to hear, Tyson left that group and went onto the stage, finding four people who he was _not_ at all expecting to group together. Especially not around dead bodies…

Terry was taking pictures. "I-I can't believe this… I-It's so disgusting…"

April frowned, her hands on her hips. "But we'll catch the culprit! We can't let them get away this time!" She grinned putting a hand into the air. "None of us are dying in here today!"

"E-Except the killer…" Hannah gulped, crouched, as though trying to hide behind the other three. "... B-But is that a good thing…?"

"Of course it is." Dru spoke quickly, checking Georgia's pockets. "They killed two people. They can't be forgiven."

Tyson decided to interject here. "So, uh… Are you four investigating the murders?" He tugged at his collar, a little unsure if he should be believing that these four were doing anything.

"What's it look like, Sherlock!?" April glared. "We're the _new detective squad!_ And we're going to solve this case!"

"I'm sorry, what?" Tyson deadpanned, not sure if his hearing was working. "The… What?"

"You, Rose, Barry, Lola, and all the others kept getting stuff wrong!" April pointed. "So it's up to us to solve this murder! We're gonna catch the real culprit!"

Dru sighed, spinning the needle of her compass. "Truth be told, April just dragged the three of us into this mess herself, but… I don't mind it." She glared towards Tyson. "Because _some of us_ aren't to be trusted… I find it best that we four work on the majority of the investigation."

That would have stung, had it come from a decently competent individual. Tyson just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyed. "Right, right… So, got any leads, 'detective squad'...?"

"Th-that's the n-new detective s-squad! New!" Hannah frowned, poking her fingers together. "B-Because… Newer is better!"

"Newer isn't, uh, always better though… My camera might be old, but it takes great pictures!" Terry smiled. "... I just kinda wish I wasn't using it for, um… D-Dead bodies…"

"Oh…" Hannah let out a sigh, disappointed in herself. "Th-then I guess we're just the 'detective squad'..." She pouted silently, mourning the loss of their adjective.

Tyson was ready to hang himself. Goddammit. Was this really what he was up against? He did all that work, and he's going up against idiots one, two, three, and four? This trial was in the bag as far as he was concerned.

He would have to be careful not to underestimate them, though. As a tactician, Tyson knew full-well how dangerous it was to underestimate any situation. "... So, again, I ask… _Any leads?_ "

"We found a note." Dru admitted. "... But we won't share it until the trial. We need to spend as much time investigating as possible. We don't have time for discussion."

"Then why are two of you just _standing there_ and not helping…?" Tyson coughed. "I mean… you and Terry are doing all the work…"

April glared. "Oi! I'm the leader! So I'm just making sure they do a good job!" She grinned, crossing her arms. "What, are you jealous? You and your executioner friend couldn't do half as good a job as the _new detective squad!_ "

"W-We regained control o-of our adjective!" Hannah beamed. It was a happy day for the new detective squad!

"Alright. So what is _Hannah_ doing?" Tyson groaned, feeling more and more fed up with this. "She's just… Crouched there…"

"Hannah is our deductionist!" April grinned. "She deduces things for us!... Also, she didn't want to get too close to the dead bodies. She said she'd faint."

"I-It's true… I-I'm too scared…" Hannah gulped, twirling her hair. "B-But I can think about things! J-Just leave it to me!"

Tyson was dying inside. He had never met more unworthy opponents in his entire life.

Coughing, he adjusted his shirt, pretending as though he actually gave a shit about these people anymore. "Right, well… Good…. Good luck?" He grinned awkwardly, silently planning how he could end their lives as quickly as possible after this trial.

"Thanks!" Hannah beamed, stars in her eyes. "W-We can do this…! I-I believe in us!"

Dru frowned, crossing her arms, looking away. "We won't let the culprit get away this time."

Terry smiled, finishing up his work. "Y-Yeah! We'll do our best!~"

"The detective squad's gonna kick ass." April grinned to Tyson. "Just you watch."

"... We lost our adjective again…" Hannah sighed, disappointed.

Tyson walked away, having officially lost just _that_ much more faith in humanity. He went to Aaron, Nick, and Harold next, sincerely hoping that they would actually be competent human beings. He needed some of that right now.

"T-Tyson!" Harold beamed, happy to see him. "I-I'm glad y-you're safe…! C-Can you believe someone k-killed two people l-like this, o-out of the blue…?"

Tyson wasn't used to having Harold be uninformed, but he didn't think he could pull the executioner aside without it being suspicious. He would have to continue on without the help of Harold this time…

"I can hardly believe it." Tyson admitted with a sigh. "But we have to do what we can now that the murders have occurred. So, what did you three find?"

"Some black outfits coated in red paint." Aaron frowned. "Other than that… I noticed some rope was missing from backstage. Nick and I will go out looking for it soon."

"No need to worry, ally Tyson! We'll find that missing rope post-haste!" Nick saluted with a smile. "To avenge the York siblings, we'll do all we can!"

Tyson nodded, pleased. "Right. Why don't we all go together? I tried to investigate, myself, but… It seems we have new 'sheriffs' around here."

"You mean the 'detective squad'..? Or is it the 'new detective squad'...?" Aaron sighed. "Honestly… I feel we're going to just have to hope that they find some good evidence. We'll work off of it ourselves."

"Y-Yeah… Th-they can't really be trusted…" Harold frowned, holding his halberd close. "I-I think A-April's suspicious… Sh-she's suddenly a r-ringleader, wh-when she had stuck t-to the sidelines b-before…"

The executioner with the giant halberd was considering someone suspicious. Something about this image humored Tyson.

"That _is_ strange." The tactician admitted. "We'll keep an eye on them during the trial. But what do you say we investigate what we can outside the theater?"

"I'm up for that." Aaron shrugged, pulling on his gloves. "I can't find anything else useful in this damn place… I feel like I'm running around in circles. We need to go somewhere else, broaden our horizons or something."

With that out of the way, Tyson smiled, gesturing for the three to follow him as they left the theater to search for clues.

* * *

The first things they decided to look at were the objects Lola and Barry interacted with during their chases. There was a wire that had connected from window to window, and a stool from the kitchen used to reach a second story window.

"This wire has been cut clean." Aaron announced upon inspecting it. "Someone used a tool to cut it…"

Nick looked to the stool. "Maybe… They used the stool? They could hit a strung wire very hard with the stool, and it would break!"

"No, Nick, I said it was a _clean_ cut." The pharmacist sighed, pushing up his glasses. "That means a tool like a knife or scissors were used. Or your sword, for example."

"I-I did not cut that wire, though!" Nick grimaced. "I have no recollection of doing such a thing!"

"Calm down, it was just an example." Aaron brushed through his pink-and-blonde hair, shaking his head. "I don't think you'd do anything like this."

Harold hummed, glancing from the wire to the stool. "... S-Still, though… These things, u-um… They'd… R-Require preparation, right..? S-So… W-We should, uh, c-consider that the p-people Lola and Barry chased m-might have had the t-time to, um, set this stuff up…"

Tyson nodded, crossing his arms. "That makes sense. They'd have to tie the wire from one windowsill to the other, and take some time to place the stool here, in the right spot to reach the window quickly… But why would they take that much time to prepare a chase?"

"Perhaps it was done to confuse whoever chased them?" Aaron wondered. "Or… Ugh." He gripped his head. "Let's leave it for the trial. My head hurts trying to connect this with everything else."

Tyson nodded. "Let's check around for more clues. There's no such thing as a perfect crime."

"But there is such thing as 'losing twice in a row and getting set up to lose a third time'." Aaron sighed. "Let's just hope Rose doesn't blame us if we fuck up this one, too."

That was a worry… But, Tyson decided that the trial came first. He could deal with any consequences of letting Conchordia free later. For now, the team of four continued investigating around the manor…

By the time they got to the foyer, Tyson felt that it might be a good idea to rush up to the bedrooms and show them the lever trick now. After all, that was vital to 'proving' that the York twins had given themselves time to set up a murder, and-

 **DING DONG, BING BONG~**

" **Everyone, please gather in the ballroom! The class trial will be held shortly!"**

Son of a _bitch._ Tyson grimaced. Monokuma just _loved_ fucking with his plans…

So now, Tyson had a couple of pieces of evidence working against him and a couple of pieces of evidence working for him. He had to twist whatever information he could to get everyone to vote the way he wanted…

Conchordia had seemed set on framing Lola, with the bruises on the bodies and all. It was true that it would be beneficial to frame the sharpshooter, especially with how bright she seemed to be; killing off the smart people would make Tyson's job much easier. But the tactician had a bad feeling about this trial. With so many variables left unaccounted for, and this 'new detective squad' on the case, he wasn't sure if things would go very smoothly…

But he would have to try his best… Because a life needed saving.

 **-=INVESTIGATION END=-**

Everyone had gathered in the ballroom. Tyson couldn't help but be amazed at how small the group size had gotten in such a short amount of time. They were down by eight people. Granted, one of those people were locked up, but it still served to make things all the more tense. Everyone knew each other now. It wasn't a game of accusing strangers anymore.

The "(new) detective squad" seemed pretty riled up and ready to go, though. Those four were going to be a complete anomaly. As much as Tyson wanted to brush them away, he knew that he had to be cautious around all this newfound enthusiasm. He remembered a quote by Mark Twain regarding the world's best swordsman. The world's best doesn't need to fear the world's second best, but they sure as hell should fear the newbies, the ones who have no training and try and do what the world's best wouldn't expect.

In other words… This group could pull some moves that were _so stupid,_ Tyson might not be prepared for them. He would have to be careful around this new threat.

Soon, the ground was shaking, and the elevator came up… This time, with that bear thing that Tyson just remembered he hadn't seen in a couple of days. Monokuma.

"Aaaaw… I hardly matter here…" He was acting depressed, hanging his head in the center of the elevator. "I'm planning motives and all this cool stuff, and you guys just go off and kill without me… You're the meanest group of kids I've ever met…"

Tyson was the first to decidedly ignore Monokuma, getting into the elevator. Everyone filtered in after him.

"H-Hey! Don't ignore me!... Awww…"

The elevator closed its doors as soon as everyone was inside, leading everyone downwards, towards another cruel fate.

* * *

Harold had stuck close to Tyson, hugging his halberd. This time, he had absolutely no idea what was going on, though he suspected Tyson had something to do with it...

Rose was in front of the doors, looking as though she was prepared for what was to come.

Lola was by her side, examining her gun, nervous. She couldn't stop remembering what had happened here last time...

Hannah kept close to Dru, trying to stay unnoticed. She shot a glance at April and Terry, hoping the four of them would be enough to solve this case.

Dru was staring at her compass. She had determined that the elevator didn't shift, but, she stared anyway, keeping herself calm by watching the needle fidget every-so-often...

Nick was staying close to Aaron, as though guarding the pharmacist from harm.

Aaron was nearby, adjusting his gloves, frowning. He looked from person to person, examining them. One of them had killed two people… It was sickening to think about.

Barry had a confident smirk on his face, doing his best to keep his spirits high, staying near Terry.

Terry flicked his wrist, frowning softly. He was nervous… Beyond nervous...

Conchordia stayed closer towards the back, playing with her orange hair, smirking softly. She figured this would be a walk in the park. How hard could it be to pull the wool over these idiots?

April stuck to the side, leaning against one of the mechanical walls of the elevator, crossing her arms.

With all twelve people accounted for, the elevator stopped and the doors opened…

They all shuffled out, finding their spots. Tyson's heart was still conflicting with his mind. He didn't want Conchordia to get away with this… But, even still, she was just doing what he would have done, in the end. The truth that the tactician didn't want to face…

 _Was that he had become just as monstrous as her._

 **-=TRIAL PREPARATION=-**

 **The Case of Arthur and Georgia York**

 _Early in the morning, Barry and Lola had given chase to two mysterious figures who had locked themselves in the theater. After finally being able to enter, they had discovered the horrific sight of their leaders, dead, in pools of their own blood._

 _Who killed Arthur and Georgia? With a mix of evidence and testimony, this trial might be the most complicated yet._

 _Please, use the evidence at your disposal and twist it to fit your needs. Lie, cheat, and steal in your mission to save a life._

 _You're just as bad as her, you know. Don't kid yourself._

 **Jeremiah Core remains unavailable, as does your conscience. He is confirmed innocent.**

 **-=TRIAL START=-**

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

The group of twelve stood on podiums, all arranged in a circle. Four more podiums were empty. Patty's had been burned heavily, Arthur and Georgia's were in similar sorry states, and Nyla's was simply empty.

To Tyson's right were Jeremiah Core (vacant), Harold Slayne, Dru West, Nyla Greens (survived), Arthur York (dead), Georgia York (dead), Barry Berry, Patty Silvers (dead), and Lola Elsworth.

To his left were Rye Titan (dead), Terry Holds, The Deserter (dead), Hannah Snow, April Nun, Julian Grendel (dead), Nick Icarus, Aaron Wright, and Conchordia Flight.

Directly across from him was Rose Major.

Tyson took a moment to marvel at just how few people were left. So many of the podiums seemed empty now… But, he figured it would only get worse in the future, so there was no time to reminiscence. He had a trial to control.

Monokuma said nothing this time, deeply depressed.

"I… I still can't believe this happened." Nick grimaced, hanging his head. "Why the two of them…? They only ever wanted to help us…"

"Oi, Monokuma." Aaron ignored the sentiment for now, getting straight to business. "Two people are dead this time. Is it possible for there to be two seperate killers?"

"Mmm… Oh, so _now_ you want my help…" Monokuma grumbled. "... Fine… Yes, it's _possible_ , but for this case, only one person killed those two rich kids."

Dru sighed, rubbing her arm. "Where are we even supposed to _begin?_ I mean, we have _two_ deaths this time… We couldn't even figure out who the culprit was when there was only _one_ victim!"

Rose bit her lip. "More victims means more evidence. And there's less of us here. We each only have eleven suspects."

"Rose is right!" Barry beamed. "We've got a fighting chance this time, gang! So let's think logically and _not_ make any sudden accusations this time, alright?"

The trial room was silent.

Barry let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, lord… T-To be honest, I was kinda expecting someone to just go ahead and randomly accuse someone right after I said that!"

"Please. Only Rose is the type to do something like that, and I think she's learned her lesson." Aaron glared towards the up-and-coming judge. Rose glared back, but refrained from saying anything.

"Why don't we begin with the cause of death?" Lola wondered. "I didn't get a good look at the bodies. I'm not sure how they were killed."

"They were stabbed. Like, a whole bunch of times…" Terry grimaced. "It was pretty brutal…"

"There were also obvious marks around their necks… About wide enough for rope…" Dru frowned. "They could have been hanged…"

This was important. Tyson had to, first, establish that the cause of death was stabbing. If he couldn't do that, then he couldn't convince everyone that this crime could be pulled off swiftly…

 _Class Trial ~ Break_

"What killed our allies?" Nick thrust his sword into the heavens! "We must determine this to find the truth!"

"My money's on the rope!" April smirked, crossing her arms. "The stab wounds were too obvious, and there wasn't _that_ much blood. The killer definitely used the rope somehow!"

Rose considered this. "It's true that if you get behind someone and use a rope, you could choke them to death… But how could you do that to _two_ people?"

"Easy! Our culprit just used some stealth!" April grinned, a confident look on her face. "If they took them out one at a time in the hallway or something, it wouldn't be that hard!"

"Wasn't Georgia supposed to know judo…?" Hannah quivered, unsure.

"How are you supposed to use judo when you're getting surprised by a murderer with a rope from behind?" April leaned over, hands on her hips, questioning. "Judo or not, Georgia's dead as a doornail!"

"Th-that was.. T-Tactless…" Harold mumbled, looking away.

"As convenient as the rope would be… I believe the stab wounds were the cause of death." Conchordia smirked, going against the crowd. "After all, there were signs of the culprit cleaning up excess blood, wasn't there..?"

Tyson hated that he had to agree with this. "Yeah! Conchordia's right!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"The rope theory fails to account for a possible attack at the entrance of the theater." Tyson frowned. "The whole area just inside the theater was wet. The culprit could have cleaned up blood there!"

"W-Were there no traces of blood…?" Hannah flinched. "Th-that must have taken a while…!"

"So… This proves that the culprit had plenty of time to clean up their murders…?" Lola wondered, crossing her arms, keeping her BB gun close.

This was bad. Conchordia had essentially forced Tyson's hand, and he had to pull this evidence out too early. He wasn't sure how to explain away how an imaginary culprit could have cleaned up the blood so quickly…!

"Well, they must have done it quickly…" Tyson flinched. "Because, well... "

 _Class Trial ~ Mind Mine_

Think, think…! Think about the theater's entrance!

There were double doors, a rug, wooden walls, some extra plastic chairs for the audience…

All Tyson did was spill water all around the entrance. However, if a culprit had actually killed and gotten blood everywhere, what could be used as proof that they cleaned the blood up quickly?

The wooden walls wouldn't work. It would be easy to clean them, anyway.

Plastic chairs are the same deal. There's no problem with cleaning them either earlier or later.

The doors have the same dilemma. There was nothing peculiar about them.

But the rug…

"I've got it!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"The rug proves that the culprit likely cleaned up their mess quickly." Tyson frowned. "Remember, there were no stains on the rug…"

"Th-there really wasn't!" Rose seemed taken aback. "But… How? If the culprit had just killed two people… They would have to go all the way to the storage room to get cleaning supplies, wouldn't they?"

"At least some blood would stain by then." Lola bit her thumb. "... Right?"

"Oh, uh, I-I can answer that…" Harold smiled awkwardly. "Th-the truth is, um, blood, like most things, d-doesn't stain immediately… I-If you could grab s-some cold water really quickly, i-it wouldn't be, um, th-that hard to clean it all up…"

"There were cleaning supplies backstage." Aaron remembered. "It was entirely possible for the culprit to quickly clean up their mess."

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

"So now we think the murder occurred at the entrance of the theater, with a stabbing weapon…" Lola considered. "But Arthur and Georgia were found on the stage."

"That's probably where the rope comes in." Dru shrugged. "So.. The culprit dragged them by their necks…?"

"But that would have left a blood trail!" Barry grinned, seeming confident. "So what's up with that, huh?"

"Y-Yeah!" Terry grimaced. "Th-that's strange…! E-Even if they cleaned up the blood at the entrance of the theater… C-Cleaning blood from the entrance to the stage… Not only would it b-be almost impossible, there was just no evidence of it!"

"There was a way to transport the bodies." Rose smirked. "All it would take is the help of some more backstage equipment."

"Hmm?" Conchordia smirked. "Was there really anything of the sort…?"

"Th-there definitely w-was…" Harold frowned. "B-Backstage, A-Aaron, Nick, and I… W-We found a lot of b-black cloaks and dresses…"

"That's right!" Nick grinned, pounding his chestplate. "Couldn't the culprit have used those?"

"If you put the bodies on cloaks and dragged them…" Lola thought to herself. "Well… It's a possibility."

"Ha!" Rose grinned, hands on her hips. "I'm back on my A-game!~"

"Y-You really are just treating this like a game…" Terry sighed, fidgeting with his camera.

Things were sailing smoothly along so far. There was a way for the culprit to kill the York twins, drag their bodies to the stage, and clean everything up quickly.

However, the battle was far from over…

"Th-there's still something that, um, bothers me…" Hannah gulped, holding a hand over her heart. "Who were those two cloaked figures that Barry and Lola, um… Chased around the manor…?"

"That's vital to solving this crime." Dru frowned. "We need to discuss who those freaks were."

April pointed. "Lola! Barry! We need your testimonies!"

"On it, dame!" Barry laughed, crossing his arms. "Let's give 'em hell, Lola!"

"... We're just testifying…" Lola felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck. "Who are we giving hell to…?"

 _Class Trial ~ Break_

"This morning, I woke up to find my door locked…" Lola described.

"Me too!" Barry grinned. "It was real screwy, lemme tell ya! I just wanted to get out and eat some breakfast!"

"But finally, it opened, and I saw two figures. One in a black cloak, and one in a black dress. Both appeared bloody. A male and a female." Lola pushed up her sunglasses, speaking quickly and simply, not bothering with the little details.

Barry was writing something down. "And my door opened, too! That's when I saw Lola giving chase to those two spooks like I was watching some kind of Saturday morning cartoon!"

The sharpshooter sighed, continuing. "I gave chase after the male. We went into the garden."

"I pursued the dame!" Barry smirked. "She was as fast as lightning!"

"He had a stool set beforehand, which he used to jump to the second story window. I managed to pull the same trick, and followed him into the war room." Lola continued.

"I… Lost the dame, at this point." Barry sighed. "She slid along some wire like it wasn't any big deal! Now, I could do that too, I just… Had some difficulty… And she cut the wire…"

"The male rushed into the theater and locked the doors behind him." Lola frowned. "That was the end of that."

"I didn't see Lola for a few minutes afterwards. I checked the doors, too, though! They were locked!" Barry grinned, putting his hands on his hips.

There was nothing here to contradict. Instead, Tyson had to support something that helped define these two as the York twins…

There wasn't much, but there was one bit of hope.

"There's only one conclusion I can draw." Tyson frowned. "A man and a woman, working together, coordinating so well… That can only be the Arthur and Georgia York!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"... I thought so." Lola bit her thumb, nervous. "But… That makes no sense. They died shortly afterwards…"

"That's true!" Barry smirked. "It's hard to think that someone snuck past Lola and I, got past those locked doors, and killed the twins!"

"And, yet, I can't think of any other two people who would work together like that." Tyson crossed his arms.

"B-But, wh-why would they do that…?" Harold gulped. "Wh-what purpose c-could running around i-in black outfits serve…?"

"Perhaps… They were plotting a crime of their own…?" Aaron wondered, pulling at his gloves, a nervous look on his face. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would they lure people from their rooms and run around in 'bloody' cloaks like that?"

Tyson nodded. "That's what it seems like-"

"I can't believe you!" Terry shouted, banging his wrist against his podium. "Th-that's impossible…!"

"Yeah!" April pointed. "The York twins are the _victims_ here, assholes! They didn't do anything wrong!"

"Y-Yeah…! Th-the new detective squad… P-Proved it…!" Hannah quivered behind her podium.

"You're dumber than we thought." Dru sighed. "Do we really have to fight for the victims' innocence…? Goddammit…"

"Uh… Do you guys have an actual argument, or…?" Tyson blinked, surprised.

"Of course w-we do!" Terry grinned. "C-C'mon! We'll prove T-Tyson and Aaron wrong!"

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Panic_

Tyson quickly realized he now had to deal with all four idiots at once. This was going to be one wild ride for the tactician.

Terry began the argument, frowning, balling his hands up into fists. "A-Assuming that Arthur and Georgia were working against us… It's just insane!"

Dru sighed, spinning the needle on her compass with a bored expression. "It's absolutely ridiculous. They put us into pairs to protect us, not to hurt us."

"Yeah! Th-they weren't bad people!" Hannah pouted, only _slightly_ hiding behind her podium. "You're just… Framing them! They did nothing wrong!"

April grinned. "Hell yeah! And the new detective squad is sure of it! The York twins have nothing to do with those freaks that Barry and Lola chased this morning!"

Tyson wasn't sure how to respond to all of this. "Uh… And how are you so sure? It seems to me like the York twins and those cloaked figures are one and the same…"

"If you keep making jumps of logic like that... " Dru groaned, rolled her eyes. "You're way off course, Tyson…"

"Yeah!" April pointed, grinning. "You're caught in the culprit's trap!"

Hannah's eyes sparkled. "O-Oh! Yeah! We won't let you dance around the issue!~"

"..." Terry went silent, unsure of how to continue.

April glared. "Terry, say something cool with your talent!"

Terry shot a glare back. "Wh-what am I supposed to say!? That I'll take a picture of his cat?"

"He'll t-take a picture of your cat!" Hannah yelped.

Dru was grimacing, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my god, we suck so much… We're all going to die here…"

Tyson glared. "Just get to the point! Why do you think the York twins aren't the cloaked figures? Give me an argument! An explanation! Not nonsense!" He pounded his fist against his podium.

"E-Eep!" Hannah hid behind her podium. "U-Um… Wh-what was our logic, again…?"

"That note could have been easily forged." Dru bit her thumb. "And anyone could have been in those dark cloaks…"

Terry pointed, confident. "S-So, you don't have any definite proof that Arthur and Georgia were the ones being chased! Th-they could have been dead hours beforehand!"

April laughed. "Yes! We rock!~" She put her hands on her hips, smirking.

"I heard it!" Tyson grinned. "Your slip-up, Dru!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"What!?" Dru grimaced, acting like she was just hit in the chest, crossing her arms and gripping her compass. "What the hell are you talking about!? I-I didn't slip up!"

"You keep acting like you're the smart one of these four, but you're _all_ disappointments." Conchordia giggled. "That 'note' you mentioned… What is it?"

"Wh-wh…" Dru slammed her fist onto her podium, groaning loudly. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!"

"Dru!" Rose pointed. "You and your friends shouldn't hide anything from us! We need _all_ of the evidence to make this a fair trial!"

"Fuck off! Like _you_ would know anything about a 'fair trial'!" Dru spat, gripping her podium hard, getting nervous.

"Just tell us about this note." Lola aimed her BB gun, lowering her sunglasses. " _Now._ "

"W-We're busted…" Hannah let out a 'meep'. "Wh-what now…?"

"We'll testify!" April slammed her hands onto her podium. "But consider yourselves fucking warned! The new detective squad has already gotten this note business figured out!"

"Th-this… This i-is going to be a-a complete mess…" Harold deadpanned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I can already tell…"

"I have never had less faith in a group of people in my entire life." Aaron sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And I've gone to med school. Do you know how many people go to med school just to disappoint everyone there and leave…?"

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up_

"I-It's true!" Terry flinched. "We found a note between their bodies…!"

Hannah's teeth were chattering. "But, um… I-It wasn't anything incriminating, because… O-Our argument still stands!"

"The note was likely forged." Dru closed her eyes. "It said some nonsense about Arthur and Georgia planning to kill."

"Yeah! But they couldn't have been trying to do that!" April grinned. "We're sure of it!"

Terry nodded. "Dru said the note was forged… W-We believe her…"

This was absolutely wrong. Tyson knew that the note was made by Arthur and Georgia, unless Conchordia had lied to him… And she had no reason to do that, did she?

So the tactician decided to take a risk and start pushing.

"And I don't believe her!" Tyson pointed. "Dru lied!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"What!?" Dru grimaced. "Wh-what the hell are you-"

"If Dru wanted to claim that the note was forged, it would be incredibly easy to prove it." Tyson smirked. "All she had to do was compare… Handwriting, right?"

"That's right, fella! Dru was paired with Georgia, wasn't she?" Barry grinned. "Those two dames probably got to know each other a little! Dru would know Georgia's handwriting!"

"But you haven't mentioned it once." Lola glared. "Is that because the handwriting on that 'note' is the same handwriting Georgia had…?"

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

"..." Dru sighed, hanging her head. "... I-I'm sorry, I just… I-I didn't want to believe… She was planning to kill…"

"So you led us on this wild goose chase?" Conchordia smirked, brushing her hair.

"So we were wrong, after all…" April bit her lip. "Fuck! Why'd you have to lie like that, Dru!?"

"... I'm sorry…" Was all the cartographer said. She didn't look anyone else in the eye. She just looked down, feeling sorry for herself.

Tyson had to wonder just what Dru had been through… But, for now, that didn't matter. Time to reel things back in.

"So we've successfully proven that the two cloaked people were likely Arthur and Georgia." Tyson reminded. "Which means that they were luring someone into the theater to be killed."

"They were planning to kill either ally Lola or ally Barry!" Nick nodded with a smile. "But… Both of them claim to have found the theater doors locked, correct?"

"Absolutely." Lola nodded, not budging on her claim.

"Got that right, big fella!" Barry winked with a grin, confident.

"But there's no possibility for anyone else to have gone into the theater after the twins went in, because they locked the doors behind them. And they couldn't have killed themselves and dragged their own dead bodies around." Rose bit her lip. "... Is there something one of you isn't telling us?"

"... I'm… Sorry?" Lola grimaced, lowering her sunglasses. "You're suspecting me, Rose?"

"N-No! No, it isn't like that!" Rose flinched, hugging herself. "It's just that… This crime only makes the most sense when it's you or Barry who did it…"

"If one of you _didn't_ face a locked door… And, instead, found yourselves ambushed…" Aaron frowned. "Lola's competent. And Barry's a quick thinker. I don't think either of them would have dropped dead in that situation."

"So… You really are narrowing it down to the two of us?" Barry sighed, putting his hand on his hat. "This is a shame, gang…"

"Then Barry did it." Lola concluded quickly, pushing her sunglasses up.

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"... Th-that was fast…!" Terry grimaced, hitting his wrist against his podium.

Lola grimaced. "It's not like I _want_ to believe that he did it… But the logic thus far makes sense, and I know _I_ didn't do it…"

Barry stood silent, still wearing a small smile. He didn't show any signs of agitation or fear…

"Barry…?" Tyson frowned. "Are… You going to say anything? Did you do it?"

Barry let out a chuckle. "Of course I didn't, pal!" He beamed, putting his hands on his sides. "... But, I'm not going to accuse anyone else. I learned my lesson from the first trial." He tipped his reporter's hat down with a small smirk, as though he were planning something. "... And, dame. If I were you, I'd cool the accusation. Don't let yourself get flustered. We can't-"

"You did it." Lola frowned. "It's either you or me. And I _know_ it wasn't me…." She glared. "I'm… I-I am _not_ getting executed like Patty was…!"

"W-Woah, Lola, m-maybe you should c-calm down-" But Harold's suggestion was cut off by the sound of Lola's gun going off. Harold had ducked, and the BB ended up hitting Tyson in the shoulder, who winced.

"Ow! What was…" Tyson was about to speak, but was cut off by Lola.

"I'll explain why I'm not the culprit." The sharpshooter hissed. "I… I am _not_ going to… B-b-burn…!"

What was Lola's problem…? Well, Tyson could figure that out later. For now, he had to start making some big moves. Lola was freaking out, and that served as an opportunity for Tyson to move in and pin her as a culprit.

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Debate_

"I-I didn't kill anyone!" Lola shouted, banging her gun against her podium.

"Y-You aren't helping yourself…" Terry gulped, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Calm yourself, ally Lola! You're making yourself look suspicious!" Nick grimaced, using his sword like a shield in front of him, afraid of any BBs flying his way.

"Lola makes the most sense for a culprit, doesn't she?" Conchordia wondered. "After all… She claimed to reach the theater's doors first, and they were locked. Why would the York twins lock their own trap up when no prey was inside..?"

"Th-that…!" Lola winced, grasping at her chest. "I-I don't know…! I don't know! But… I-It wasn't me…!"

"P-Playing D-Devil's Advocate…" Harold began. "M-Maybe the York twins wanted B-Barry specifically…?"

"Am I really such a hot product?" Barry laughed, crossing his arms.

"That makes no sense, either!" April hissed. "They planned to be chased down two different paths. They didn't have time to communicate who they wanted to capture out of the two of them! They probably just set a 'first come, first die' basis!"

"I…" Lola was grasping at her forehead, sweating, seeming hot. "I-I…! There's no evidence, though! N-No evidence I'm the culprit…!"

"That's where you're wrong." Tyson frowned. "I only got a quick glimpse… But the new detective squad should know what the truth is!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"We do!?" April seemed shocked.

"W-We do!?" Hannah was just as shocked. "O-Oh my god! W-We do!? We did something!?"

"D-Don't act so surprised…!" Terry winced. "... What did we do, though, Tyson…?"

"Terry, you took pictures of the bodies, right?" The tactician confirmed. "Did you take pictures of their arms and legs?"

"Oh! Oh!" Terry immediately remembered. "The small bruises! Yeah, I was wondering about those! They were so strange…!"

"Small… Bruises…?" Lola wondered, grimacing, having no idea what was going on. "What are you…?" She seemed to be on the verge of some kind of panic attack. Her sunglasses had all but slipped off her face, and she was holding onto her gun for dear life.

"I've been trying to figure out what could have made those bruises, and why they're there." Tyson admitted, rubbing his chin. "... But, I couldn't figure it out… Until I got hit by Lola's BB."

He smirked. "What if, when attacked, Lola fired at them immediately…?" He crossed his arms, feeling that he had this in the bag now.

Aaron followed this line of logic quickly, smiling, pushing up his glasses. "She would have fired immediately if attacked. Lola always has her hands on her gun. That would have made the bruises we saw on the York twins."

"And… With them so hurt…" Nick grimaced, not wanting to believe this, but continuing. "... And given that they had just tried to kill her… Perhaps Lola panicked?"

"NO!" Lola shouted, tears in her eyes. "I didn't do anything! Please!"

Conchordia just laughed. "What a horrible lie!~"

"Y-You killed two of our friends…" Dru bit her lip, glaring. "How could you..!"

"I didn't!" Lola slammed her gun against her podium, nearly breaking it. "I didn't! I didn't kill anyone! Please! You have to believe me!" She was panicking…

Barry covered his face with his hat, considering something. "..."

Tyson felt horrible for the girl nearly across from him… But he couldn't let his emotions get in the way now. He had to face this lie, and make it the truth…

To save Conchordia's life, and to save lives in the future… Tyson had to take Lola down here!

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Talk Action_

"I-I didn't kill anyone!" Lola shouted, grasping at her chest. "I didn't!"

"You keep saying that, but the evidence points to you!" Aaron glared. "You were the first to the theater! And those bruises being caused by BBs makes sense!"

"I couldn't have fought off two people at once…!" She grimaced. "G-Georgia knew judo, didn't she!? I… I couldn't have fought _that_ at close range!"

"I… I think you'd have a chance…" Terry admitted, a frown on his face, starting to become more determined. "A good one… You're a sharpshooter, after all…"

"I-I didn't go inside the theater! I never did, please!" Lola cried. "I went back to grab a chair! Barry saw me!"

"You had plenty of time to do what you had to do before going back to get a chair and have Barry see you." Tyson frowned. "It'd be easy as hell for someone as clever as you."

"B-But… He saw me _after_ h-he found the theater locked, right!?" Lola flinched. "He walked down the stairs, went to the dining hall, a-and saw me there… How could I have been there when the theater doors were locked!? I should have still been inside, right!?"

"N-Not… Not if you took another path…" Harold grimaced. "..."

"... Y-You took the garden path…" Rose sighed, giving in. "... That's how you could have done it, Lola. You jumped out the window, went through the garden, and beat Barry to the dining hall."

"What…?" Lola breathed. "R-Rose…?" She was absolutely shocked that her friend was betraying her like this. Rose should know that she didn't do anything wrong, right?"

"That settles it." Tyson frowned. "Lola-"

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

And then, something inexplicable happened.

It was the most surprising thing Tyson has had to face in this killing game yet. The thing that set all of his plans off course. The thing that fucked up every ounce of planning he had spent so much time on…

"I did it! Lola is innocent!"

What?

Everyone turned to Barry at once. He was grinning, his hat pressed up against his chest.

"I killed Arthur and Georgia." Barry smirked, putting his hat back on, adjusting it cooly. "... In cold blood. It was me."

"WHAT!?" Rose grimaced, taken aback. "I'm sorry!? What!?'

"Wh-what in the hell…!?" Dru yelped, nearly falling over in surprise.

Hannah hid behind her podium. "What is going on anymore!?" She screeched, tears in her eyes as she found herself unable to process this confession.

Tyson was absolutely shocked. He couldn't seem to recover himself from what Barry had just said. What was going on…? Why had Barry just thrown himself in the line of fire like that!?

Tyson _knew_ Barry was innocent. Conchordia was the culprit! So why was he…!?

 _Class Trial ~ Hope Vs. Despair_

"I did it." Barry grinned, adjusting his hat casually, as though nothing was wrong. "I was the one who whacked the York twins!"

"Y-You've got to be kidding me…!" Aaron was clutching his chest. "What the _fuck_ , Barry!?"

"I-Is everyone here insane!?" Terry cried. "I can't take this anymore…!"

"Wait, I can't accept this so easily!" Rose glared. "Barry, can you explain what happened!?"

"Of course!" Barry smirked. "You see, while I was chasing after that dame, Georgia, I crossed the wire…"

"But I lied about her cutting it at the end. It just broke when I got to the other side." The journalist continued on with his lie, twirling his pen in his hand, writing something down. "That's when I continued my pursuit!"

"..." Lola was trying to get a hold of herself, grimacing, biting her thumb, doing her best to stop tearing up. What the hell was going on!?

April was growling, pounding her podium. "Cut the fucking shit, Barry! We all know you didn't do it! How did you cause those bruises!?"

"When I got to the theater _first_ , before Lola… Georgia ambushed me using her judo techniques…" Barry grinned. "But, I was better than her! I got several precise strikes in! That's where the bruises came from! I did the same thing to Arthur!"

The journalist tipped his hat. "I knew I'd die if I didn't do anything, so, I got to work messing with the crime scene. I pulled their bodies to the stage by tying ropes around their necks…"

He smirked, acting completely casual, telling his lie like it wasn't a big deal at all. "And left them on the stage! It was as easy as that!"

Tyson grimaced, having enough of this shit. He _knew_ Barry was lying… So why was he trying so hard to protect Lola!? The tactician needed to find a contradiction and strike it hard!

"You're wrong, Barry!" Tyson shouted. "That couldn't have happened!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

The tactician glared. "You say that the wire just broke… But I say that you're full of shit!" He pointed, a fire in his eyes. "That wire was cut deliberately! It didn't just _snap_!"

Aaron grimaced, holding his chest, still surprised, but starting to get some of his confidence back. "... Y-Yes, that's… That's right… The wire was cut deliberately…! There's no way it just snapped…!"

"Huh…?" Barry wondered. "Oooh… Shit, right! Right!" He grinned, putting his hands on his hips. "My bad, gang! I guess I got one little detail wrong…"

"One little detail!?" Terry shouted. "M-More like a HUGE detail! You said that wire breaking is what kept you from getting to the theater first!"

"Right. That was my lie." Barry smiled. "But, I guess when you've been lying since the early morning, you start to mix a few things up..! Sorry about that." He grinned, crossing his arms. "I'll give a _proper_ confession this time."

"A… Proper confession…?" Rose was tugging at the collar of her shirt.

Conchordia glared. "Wh-why are we listening to this idiot!? He's just going to tell more lies…!"

Barry laughed. "It's true… I'm not the smartest kid in my family…"

But the journalist frowned, a serious look on his face. He tipped his reporter's cap ever-so-slightly, a deadly glare shot right towards Conchordia. "... But it's because I'm not the smartest that I'm also the bravest. I'm not stepping down."

He grinned, returning to his usual, goofy self. "I'll explain how I committed this crime!" He pointed. "Try objecting to _this_ , pal!"

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Showdown_

Barry grinned, crossing his arms. "Alright, alright. So I admit it! I cut the wire to buy myself an alibi! You got me good, Tyson! Ever consider becoming a detective?"

He laughed, pulling out his notebook and pen, writing some stuff down. "It was pretty easy! Once I crossed the wire, I just went ahead and cut it! That would give me a solid alibi for the murder!"

"Cut the shit, Barry!" Tyson was furious, pounding on his podium. "You couldn't have cut the wire directly after crossing it! You didn't know you were going to be ambushed! You didn't know you would even _need_ an alibi!"

"..." Barry grew serious, passing his death glare onto Tyson, lowering the rim of his hat ever-so-slightly as he thought to himself…

He flipped the switch back to normality pretty quickly, though, grinning. "Ah, damn! I forgot again!" He laughed. "Right, right. I cut the wire _after_ I left the theater! Man, gang, aren't I screwey in the head?"

The journalist smirked, looking to Tyson. "What about _that_ , pal!? Do you think _that's_ impossible!?"

Son of a bitch! Tyson grimaced, taken aback. He was just saying whatever bullshit he wanted…! Tyson knew that all of these lies would pile up against Barry eventually, though. He just had to get him on this one wire trick..!

"... Out of curiosity, Barry, what did you use to cut the wire…?" Tyson frowned, thinking to himself. "After all, I doubt you had scissors or anything convenient handy… And we didn't see the murder weapon at the crime scene…"

"Ah, that's easy! I used the murder weapon." Barry smirked. "Just had to cut it with a knife!"

Thank fuck, Barry fell for it!

"Ha!" Tyson grinned. "You fell for my trap!"

 _Class Trial ~ Future Edition_

"... I did _what_ , pal?" Barry grimaced, writing something down on his notepad furiously, trying to get some thoughts onto paper…

Tyson smirked. "You said you used the murder weapon to cut the wire… But that would have left bloody marks on the wire! We didn't find anything like that!"

"I… I just cleaned it…!" Barry was sweating, gritting his teeth. "I cleaned the weapon before I used it to cut the wire….! It's as easy as that!"

Harold frowned. "R-Really…? So… You cleaned th-the entire th-theater entrance… A-And your murder weapon.. A-And some bloody cloaks…"

"Listen. Barry. Unless your real ultimate title is 'maid', that is _not_ happening." Aaron glared.

"... Whoops! I forgot to tell you guys, I'm _really_ the ultimate-" Barry grinned, but was cut off.

"Fuck off, Barry!" April glared. "What the hell is your problem!? Why are you trying to let the culprit go free!?"

Barry pounded on his podium, glaring back twice as hard. " _You_ 'fuck off', dame! Why won't you people vote for me!? I'm the culprit!"

Barry wouldn't accept this outcome… But Tyson wasn't going to budge this easily…

As the Ultimate Tactician, Tyson had to make sure this went the way he wanted it to. Tyson had to do this, to save Conchordia and to make sure the York twins' deaths were not in vain…!

He had to shout Barry down! There was no other way forward!

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Talk Action_

"Shouldn't you guys believe the culprit when they confess?" Barry grinned, putting his hands behind his head. "I mean, c'mon, gang! It ain't that hard!"

"Y-You've been contradicting yourself over and over…!" Terry winced. "You can't be the culprit…!"

"That's where you're wrong." Barry frowned, growing serious once more. "I whacked the York twins. They're dead because of _me_. Get that through your thick skulls!"

Rose winced. "You aren't acting like yourself, Barry! Snap out of it! You didn't kill them!"

Dru was fidgeting nervously with her compass. "C-Could he have…? Did he…? I-I can't… I can't tell…!" She grimaced, gripping her head.

"I _did_ kill them, dame!" Barry pounded on his podium. "I killed them dead! I saw the life drain from their eyes as I stabbed them over and over and _over_ again!"

"EEEEE!" Hannah screeched, crying. "N-NOOOO..!"

"So vote Barry Berry as the culprit, everybody!" Barry grinned, putting his hands on his hips. "Promising a captured culprit and a brighter future!"

"You are one crooked politician…" Aaron deadpanned, ruffling his lab coat, disturbed.

"Cut the fucking bullshit, Barry!" Tyson shouted, glaring at him. "You didn't kill anyone! It was Lola!"

"..." Barry shot Tyson another one of his death glares. It caused the tactician to nearly lose his footing with surprise, but, Tyson didn't stand down, glaring back.

"... I don't get why you keep trying to pin Lola as the culprit!" Barry smirked, reverting back to normal in the blink of an eye. "She's a sweet dame! Never did anything wrong!" He knocked his fists together, grinning.

"Lola's the culprit!" Tyson glared. "We proved it! You're the only one who won't accept it!"

"You're making me _real_ pissed, pal…" Barry grit his teeth, glaring. "You wanna keep talking like Tsumiko's the culprit? You wanna take this to the back of the trial room? Handle it like _men_?"

"V-Violence is not the answer!" Nick held his sword up into the air. "We shouldn't fight to solve this problem! We can still talk it out!"

"..." Tyson only gave Barry a dumbfounded stare. "... Who the _fuck_ is Tsumiko?"

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

"..." Barry hid his face behind his hat. "... Wh-what? Huh?" He was sweating furiously. "I… Uh… Huh? Whaddya mean, pal? Tsumiko? What…."

"..." Lola seemed more shocked than anyone. Her eyes were wide and her face was as pale as anyone had ever seen it. Not even the fire had made her this afraid.

"You heard me." Tyson glared. "... Who is Tsumiko?"

"Sounds like a Japanese name…" Dru commented softly. "But… Barry's from New York or something, right…?"

"..." Barry was sweating bullets, writing something down nervously. "... H-Hey, I, uh… I watch anime from time to time! H-Haha! That's all! So, you know, I just… O-One of my favorite character's names, just, _slipped out_ , you know? Haha… That… That Tsumiko Yamamoto, fellas! A real great character…"

"Everyone is believing you completely right now, Barry." April rolled her eyes, a sarcastic tone in her voice. "So believing. Yes. Believable."

"... How… H-How do you know that name…?" Lola hiccuped, grimacing, looking to Barry. "How… How the _hell_ do you know that name…!?"

"..." Barry grimaced, slumping his shoulders. "... Fuck me, gang…"

"Answer her, Barry." Rose frowned. "What's that name's significance?"

"..." Barry crossed his arms, giving in. "... So, uh… I'm a journalist, but… I'm best known for traveling to other parts of the world to solve ancient scoops, you know…? So, uh, a couple years ago, I got a tip about a fire in this Japanese nature reserve… And I figured I'd pursue it."

He sighed, shaking his head. "... Didn't take me long to figure out that the head of management of that reserve, a woman who died in the fire, had a kid. What's more is that nobody knows what happened to that kid. Whether she died in the fire or what…"

He put his hat over his chest. "... But… I learned a lot of things about that girl. She had friends in that community. Friends who missed her, wanted to know what happened to her. I got pictures showing her face. I heard rumors that her parent's vault had been cracked _right_ after the fire… I got a lead about a kid going on a flight to America… _Alone._ "

"..." Lola was hugging herself, sniffling, grimacing…

"... I wanted to find her, of course. But the trail went cold once I followed the flight to America." Barry admitted with a small sigh. "But… When I woke up here, and saw Lola… I knew right away. My journalist's instincts were screaming that I had just found Tsumiko Yamamoto."

He frowned, crossing his arms. "... And that's why… I _know_ she didn't kill."

"How do you know she didn't kill anyone based off of that?" Conchordia flinched, unable to believe this sudden turn of events. "H-How…"

"Because Tsumiko was taught to cherish life and nature. She had a kind upbringing. She had good parents. A family who wanted the best for her." Barry glared. "... Someone like that… Wouldn't kill."

"... Wh-why…?" Lola sniffled. "... I… I burned it down… I-I... I-I'm an awful fucking person! _Why do you think I wouldn't kill!?_ "

"Because by my investigation…" Barry tipped his hat. "... That fire was an _accident._ "

"... What…?" Lola was dumbstruck, tears in her eyes.

"Nobody was ever able to find evidence suggesting that an arson caused the fire." Barry rubbed his chin. "I had different thoughts. Everything seemed suspicious to me. The motive was clear. People with plans to destroy the nature reserve… And the fire begins in the place where the plans were…? It was clear to me that this was caused by someone."

He adjusted his reporter's hat. "Eliminate the parents, who worked so hard to save the reserve that they died… And the only one with enough motive is the kid, Tsumiko. But everyone thought she had died. And nobody had proof that she started the fire."

He smirked. "... And, when I heard everything about Tsumiko… Come on. How am I supposed to believe that a little girl started a fire on purpose? It was an accident, Lola. A mistake."

"A mistake…!?" Lola was gasping, acting as though Barry had just punched her with words. "My… My parents are dead! The reserve is burned to the ground! Nobody would ever forgive me! I can't forgive… I can't forgive me…!"

"If you can't forgive yourself, then why are you here?" Barry frowned. "Shouldn't you be in Japan, atoning for your crimes? Or maybe you should have committed suicide?"

"..." Lola stopped, clutching her chest. She had nothing to say to that.

"Exactly. You want to make up for it. To atone." Barry smirked. "I know that feeling… I've already been through that wild ride, dame."

He looked to the others. "... So. Tsumiko didn't commit this crime. She's innocent. She still has to atone for what she's done… And because of that, I know she wouldn't kill anyone."

The whole trial room was shocked. Nobody could find the courage to speak. What had just happened? Lola Elsworth… Was Tsumiko Yamamoto? She had committed arson in Japan? She had fled to America?

What in the world… _Was_ all of this…?

"... That's… Still nonsense…" Conchordia was seething. "How do you expect us to believe all of this…? She's the culprit, clear as day!"

"No she's not." Barry smirked. "Because I am."

" _Fuck you_." Conchordia hissed, but said no more. She knew she couldn't give herself away like this. She couldn't give herself away over a silly thing like this…

"Barry…" Terry grimaced. "D-Did you really…?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." The journalist sighed. "But, the truth is… We're in a trap, gang. And we don't have the time to worm our ways out of it."

"What…?" April flinched. "What are you-"

"Time's up! It's been an hour!" Monokuma shouted. "It's voting time!~"

"... I'm sorry, what?" Aaron laughed nervously. "What? What is…"

"Upupupupu!~" Monokuma banged his gavel. "It's voting time, kids! Everyone, say your vote aloud when I call on you! When we hit majority- that's seven people, by the way- I'll count that as your chosen culprit!"

"I asked Monokuma after the first trial if we had a time limit." Barry frowned, tipping his hat. "... We do. And the culprit has successfully run us _out of time._ "

"Rose Major!" Monokuma shouted.

"What!? How am I supposed to vote!?" Rose screeched. "W-We don't know the culprit-"

"Too bad, so sad! You guys took too long!" The monochromatic bear grinned. "Now vote!"

"Vote for me." Barry frowned. "Do it."

"..." Rose grimaced. "B-Barry Berry…"

"What…?" Lola grimaced, turning to Barry. "Are you fucking crazy!? You're not the culprit!"

"You sure about that?" Barry grinned to her.

"Conchordia Flight!"

"... Lola." Conchordia crossed her arms. "I'm not believing this for a _second_ …"

"..." Lola was shivering, wiping at her tears. "Wh-what's happening…?"

"Aaron Wright!"

"..." Aaron grimaced. "Barry's not the culprit. Lola's not the culprit. So who?"

"We don't have time to discuss it anymore…" Barry sighed. "That was the culprit's plan. We failed."

"S-So, what… W-We have to v-vote you..?" Harold grimaced. "B-But that's… C-Cruel…! You're c-completely i-innocent…!"

"I'm fine with dying here." Barry crossed his arms. "The rest of you, gang… You all need to survive."

"..." Aaron grimaced. "... Barry Berry…"

"Nick Icarus!"

"Why, ally Barry!?" Nick was crying outright. "Y-You…! You're our friend! Y-You don't have to die! We can figure out a new culprit!"

"In five seconds?" Barry wondered. "Sorry, big fella... That isn't happening. Someone has to die. And I'll take that bullet."

"..." Nick cried, wiping at his tears. "... B-Barry…!"

"April Nun!"

"... This is so, _so_ fucked…" April grimaced. "... F-Fine…. Barry. Barry Berry."

"Hannah Snow!"

"N-n-no…!" Hannah sniffled. "W-We can't…! H-He's innocent! W-We know h-he is…!"

"Why are you letting yourself die like this!?" Lola shouted, glaring at Barry. "You have things to live for! You're a fucking global journalist! And a good one!" She had tears rolling down her cheeks. "You have a family! You have a _fucking_ family! Let me die instead!"

"I do have a family." Barry smiled. "And I did them proud. Can you say the same?"

"..." Lola sniffled. "... N-no… And that's why I should di-"

"And that's why you should _live._ " Barry frowned, crossing his arms. "You have to atone for what you've done, Tsumiko. Your parents are counting on you. Your community back home, in Japan, is counting on you."

"... B-Barry…" Hannah sniffled, crying.

"Terry Holds!"

"Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope…." Terry mumbled to himself over and over again. "Nope! Not doing this! I vote Terry Holds!"

"I'll execute you, too!" Monokuma hissed.

"F-Fine! Barry!" Terry sniffled. " _Fuck!_ "

"Tyson Jin!"

"..." Tyson grimaced. His heart was splitting in two. Barry Berry was a good person… He was a great person. He didn't deserve this.

Six votes for Barry. This last one would kill him.

Tyson did the numbers in his head. If he, Harold, Dru, Barry, and Lola all voted for Lola, Barry could still live… But Barry wasn't willing to budge.

He was ready to die.

"... Barry." Tyson whispered. It was at that moment, that whatever was left of Tyson's humanity crumbled up and died. He had officially gone _too far_ …

A doorway opened behind Barry's podium.

"Well…" The journalist sighed, taking off his hat. "Guess that's my cue! Gotta give it to whoever whacked the York twins… You played us. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Tyson wasn't happy at all.

"No…" Lola still couldn't accept this. "No! How could you all vote for him!? He did nothing wrong!"

Barry shrugged. "Nothing wrong? Geeze, you're treating me like a puppy or something!" He laughed, putting his hands on his sides. "I'd better get going now, gang. It's been a pleasure being with you people. Don't let anymore of this murder business continue, alright?"

"..." Hannah was crying, hugging herself. She could hardly hear Barry. Everyone else was either crying, sniffling, or doing their best not to do any of the above.

Or they were Conchordia. Who simply glared.

"Here. To remember me by." Barry gave his hat to Lola. "Goodbye, gang. If I see any of you on the other side anytime soon… I'm gonna be _pissed!_ " He laughed, walking through the doorway…

The doorway closed behind him.

And all the others could hear was a loud, powerful gunshot.

"..." Lola screamed, hitting her gun against her podium so hard that it broke into pieces. "NO!" She cried, hugging herself. "... N-No…"

Monokuma just laughed as everyone suffered… And the elevator doors opened…

 **-= CLASS TRIAL: END =-**

"..." Tyson was hugging himself, shivering, eyes wide. What has he done…?

Harold was sniffling. "... I-I… I'm crying…? Wh-why… Why am I-I crying…?"

Aaron was clutching at his heart, as though it were physically aching. "... We… We've lost a good man…"

Nick was crying, unable to stop himself. "... W-We're in hell, allies… We're in hell…!"

Dru was shivering, unable to stand here any longer. "I-I… I need to go…" She darted into the elevator.

"..." Conchordia was displeased. While she did live… Tyson was suffering. And her prey had lived. It felt as though she had won yet lost…

Oh well. She went to the elevator, taking Tyson's arm and bringing him with her. The tactician was unwilling to go… But managed to keep up, anyway, doing his best to keep standing…

Those three were the only ones who had entered the elevator that time. They went up, leaving the crying and tears below…

* * *

Dru had ran away to the second floor. Tyson and Conchordia had arrived in the foyer.

"What a wonderful victory!~" The opera singer beamed. "You did it, Tyson!~ I'm saved! You're my hero!~" She hugged him, grinning.

"..." Tyson didn't respond. He was stiff. Tears fell from his face, but he was hardly sniffling. It was as though he had been killed on the inside.

"... W-Well… The good news is… I'm staying!" Conchordia beamed. "I won't leave you, Tyson! I'll help you with the murders so that more people live!"

"..."

"We can be partners! It would be wonderful!" The singer grinned. "We can save so many lives together… And damn the others who don't deserve life! Like Lola-"

Tyson hugged Conchordia suddenly. He wrappped his arms around her, embracing her completely.

…

Conchordia was taken aback. "... T-Tyson…" She smiled softly. "You… You finally see things my way-"

Then, Tyson used that moment when Conchordia's guard was down to pick her up, bridal style. She squealed in shock, unable to stop the tactician as he rushed to the front doors…

The green light appeared and the 'beep' sounded as the doors opened…

And Tyson tossed Conchordia inside, closing the doors behind her.

"And don't _ever_ fucking come back!" Was what she last heard from Tyson before he ran from the foyer, tears in his eyes…

This…

This was the worst possible outcome…

Tyson Jin's sins had finally caught up with him. And, now… Now all he could do was cry.

 **REMAINING PLAYERS: 11**

 **SURVIVED PLAYERS: 2**

 **CHAPTER 3: A Siren Song: END**


	5. Chapter 4: The Comparison of Lives

Harold Slayne stood in the dark, cold trial room, whimpering to himself. That experience was horrible. He had never felt a despair like that in his life. He had thought he was immune to the feelings that everyone else had, and yet, here he was, unable to keep himself from thinking about how an innocent had just gotten brutally executed, and…

What was going _on?_ If this were one of Tyson's plans, Harold would understand, but, why would he target the likes of Arthur, Georgia, and Barry? Didn't they deserve to live? Lola might have been revealed to be arsonist or something, but, Tyson hadn't known that at the time, had he?

Besides, if this was Tyson's doing, he would have told Harold, surely… So was this the cause of someone else? If so, who?

The executioner decided he'd have to ask Tyson those questions himself. Right now, Harold didn't feel like he could figure out who could have done this. And so, he decided to try and find something else to focus on.

He decided to head over to Terry, first. The animal photographer was off on his lonesome, in a corner of the trial room, shaking and shivering. Harold had remembered that Terry had been a lot better at the beginning of this game. He hadn't stuttered, he seemed relatively normal… But this Terry was a far cry from the boy Harold had met. This Terry was scared and alone.

"H-Hey…" Harold frowned, walking up to him. "A-Are you okay…?"

"A-Am I okay…!?" Terry winced. "Harold… Look around! We just lost Barry, and… Fuck! Fuck! Once the culprit goes free, w-we're down to ten…! Half of us are either _dead_ or _murderers_! I… I am _freaking out_ , man!"

Fear was something Harold never really understood. He remembered feeling fear when he was small… _Lots_ of fear… But now? Fear wasn't something Harold felt. Even in this killing game, the executioner felt completely safe. He figured he could just cut down anyone who wanted to hurt him. Well, everyone except Nick, perhaps…

"U-Um…" Harold wasn't sure what to say in response. "M-Maybe you should, uh… T-Take deep breaths…?" He had heard that was something people did to calm down. He had seen some people do that just before he executed them. Didn't seem to help them much.

"..." Terry groaned, clenching his eyes shut as he banged his wrist against the wall next to him. "I… I can't… I-I can't keep calm…" He grimaced, shivering and shaking his head. "What are we going to do!? If we don't do anything, Harold, we're… We're all fucked! W-We're gonna get executed, or murdered, o-or fucking _shot_ like Barry!"

Harold rubbed his arm, unsure. "Erm… I-I don't know… Tyson would know, but, I-I think he's really sad right now, too, so…" He shook his head, clasping his hands together. "Don't panic, Terry! I-I'm sure some of us can still live…!"

"Yeah, by murdering someone and framing another…" Terry flinched, shivering more. "… It's hopeless, isn't it..? We're all fucked…" He had tears beading up in his eyes. "I-I don't want to die… I don't want to fucking _die…_!"

"But, um, s-struggling doesn't help… Right…?" Harold shifted his eyes away, honestly unsure of what to do for Terry. "L-Like… If you're so sure we're going to die, y-you could always do your best t-to, um, make peace with that… Or, instead of panicking… Y-You could do something productive…?" The executioner tried to use logic, unsure of how he could reason with Terry otherwise. It wasn't as though Harold was particularly good at appealing to pathos.

Terry wasn't sure how to respond to that. He grimaced, covering his mouth with his hand, thinking to himself. "... I… Like what!? Wh-what am I supposed to do that's _productive_?"

Harold shrugged, shaking his head. "I dunno, but… I-I'm sure there's _something_ we can do."

"Very uplifting…" Terry grumbled, rolling his eyes. "... B-But fine. I… I'm going to go fucking _crazy_ if I think about how totally dead I am in the next few days, so… Let's… Do literally _anything_ else. H-How is everyone else holding up..?"

April, Rose, and Lola had appeared to have already left through the elevator. That left Aaron, Nick, and Hannah. Nick was crying his eyes out and was being awkwardly comforted by Aaron. Hannah was sniffling in another corner of the trial room.

"... Not well." Harold casually observed. "W-where did th-the others go..?"

"I think Lola's, uh, g-gonna need some time to herself…" Terry shrugged, nervous. "Rose can go _fuck_ herself. And, uh… I-I dunno about April. I'm worried about her."

"Why don't you l-like Rose….?" Harold wondered, blinking, tipping his head to the side. "W-We were all t-together before all this…" His voice was calm, but if his stuttering was any indication, he had some inner nervousness bottled up. Terry shrugged.

"She treats this all like… L-Like it's something to be controlled…" The boy frowned. "C-Controlling types… I fucking _hate_ people wh-who just focus on control and… Fuck…" He flicked his wrist. "... I… I don't really wanna talk about it…"

"Right…. W-Well…" Harold rubbed the back of his neck. That was weird. "L-Let's talk to the others… M-Maybe they, uh, w-will help you f-feel better…?"

"Yeah, sure." Terry rolled his eyes. "Which… Which one is supposed to make me _feel_ better, exactly? The crying girl or the crying big dude with a sword…?"

"H-Hey, you stopped stuttering..!" Harold smiled. "W-We're getting somewhere!"

"..." Terry scratched his cheek. "I really, _really_ don't understand you, dude… L-Let's just… Check on Hannah, I guess…"

He walked over to the dancer, and Harold followed, keeping his guard up. They were still in a room where three people had died before, after all, and the executioner wanted to make sure nothing else would pop up and set them on fire or something.

Hannah was sniffling, her hands on her face as she sat on her knees, trying her best to calm down. She wasn't getting very far, given how she wasn't getting quieter with time. Harold briefly wondered if Hannah was the type to be unable to stop crying, like his mother. Harold's mother never stopped crying.

"H-Hey, Hannah…" Terry frowned, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We should go…"

"I-I don't want to…" Hannah sniffled, shaking her head as she kept her hands on her face, her whole body trembling. "I… I-I wanna stay down here and die…! I… I voted for him! He was innocent! H-He did nothing wrong!"

"H-He wanted us to vote f-for him…" Harold bit his lip, rubbing his arm. "A-And we didn't h-have a choice… _Someone_ had t-to, um… Die, right…?"

"W-We could have killed anyone else…!" Hannah wailed, seemingly unaffected by Harold's words. "Why didn't we vote f-for me instead!? I'm useless! Barry was a hero…!"

"Hannah, don't think that way…" Terry frowned, shaking his head. "Nobody would have voted for you… A-And you're not useless…"

"T-Terry, what have _any_ of us done t-to help…?" Hannah looked up, her face red and messy. Her eyes were full of tears and her face and hands were wet. "We… W-We can't stop any of this… B-But Barry had the right idea… He _did_ something t-to save someone… We can't do anything…!"

This was a real stuttering trio, Harold realized. All three of them were bogged down by nervousness, fear, and guilt. If this continued, he doubted that any of them would feel any better, as was evidenced clearly by how Terry recoiled at Hannah's response.

"..." Terry frowned, glancing away. "... I…. I-I guess we should just go, then. Harold?"

The executioner shrugged. It seemed that Terry had the same idea. This conversation wouldn't get them anywhere. "R-Right… Join us whenever you want, Hannah.."

"..." Hannah just continued sniffling, putting her head back in her hands, shaking…

Terry and Harold entered the elevator, going up. The two of them felt horrible, but, there wasn't much that could be done. Terry felt like he was going to explode, himself, and Harold wasn't sure what to do with all of these new feelings attacking his psyche.

"... If the culprit escaped…" Terry mumbled, rubbing his arm. "Then… We're down to half of us, aren't we?"

That was wrong. Harold knew it was wrong. Jeremiah was still locked up in that basement, but everyone thought he had escaped. However, the executioner played along, nodding. If the real culprit has escaped, that would lead everyone to believe there are only ten people left…

"God… E-Everything really went to shit…" Terry grimaced. "After… After Julian, I thought… Well, I just wanted to believe we still had a chance. There was still eighteen of us. Then Jeremiah went missing, and the Deserter died, and… Oh, god, this hell isn't going to stop, is it?"

"N-Not until two people are remaining…" Harold reminded. "And… W-We're halfway there, I guess…"

"Yeah. Now we just have to wait and watch eight more of our friends die or kill or…" Terry grimaced, flinching. "... Or we'll just die, ourselves…"

"... Maybe we should, um… M-Make our peace? Just in case?" Harold suggested nervously. "I-If you're, um… Religious?"

"My mom was religious." Terry recalled, looking down, flicking his wrist. "... I'm, uh, not. I don't think anything's gonna happen after I… I die…"

He took a deep breath. Harold nodded carefully, understanding.

"M-My mom was religious, too…" Harold smiled. "B-But, um… She always u-used that as an excuse for when bad things happened… O-Or for when dad was mean."

"When 'dad was mean'?" Terry echoed. The elevator kept moving up, and for a moment, all the boys could hear was the scratching of metal against metal as the large device pulled them upwards… But, then, Terry spoke again. "So, uh… Your dad wasn't a great guy?"

"H-He… Was a criminal." Harold frowned, growing serious. "He a-always hit mom. And I couldn't do a-anything about it…"

"H-Heh… That's… Damn…" Terry laughed. It was so out of place to laugh at something like that, but Terry laughed, a small smile on his face. "What do you know… My dad's a complete asshole, too…"

Terry briefly wondered if their similar pasts meant he could have ended up like Harold. Some sort of awkward, stuttering psychopath with a halberd strapped to his back. He didn't want to think about it, so, he shook his head and the conversation continued.

"Well… Th-that was a long time ago…" Harold smiled, too, able to find peace with what had happened years ago. "I… I did something about it. A-And my life got a lot better."

"I wish I could've done something about it…" Terry sighed, looking down at his wrist. "... I was just weak. I… I let it happen."

Harold could hardly blame Terry for that. "I-It's fine, Terry. Nobody should, um… Have to go through that in the first place…"

"... Thanks." Terry smiled a bit. "I… You know, I thought you were kind of a freak, Harold, but… You're alright. I'm sorry for judging you."

Harold smiled back. "So… W-We're friends now?"

"Can't say how long it'll last… W-We're probably going to get killed soon…" Terry sighed, gripping his head. "... But, yeah. We're friends."

Harold beamed, happy. He had finally made another friend in this hell…

A friend who had gone through similar events. A friend who was suffering, just as he was. A friend with a bad father… And, well, as disappointed as Harold was that Terry could never do anything about his situation, the executioner supposed that not everyone had the guts to publicly execute their own parent in the middle of town, reading off their last rites and bringing down that halberd…

Ah. Just thinking back on his first execution made Harold feel a lot better. That was the first time he had ever stood up for himself and made a difference. The first time he ever made the world a better place.

* * *

Tyson was losing his _damn_ mind. Pacing back and forth in the war room on the second floor, he scratched his arm, his whole body fidgeting and sweating as he ran through the thoughts in his head.

He had become a monster. A complete, psychopathic monster. He had let three innocents die so that a fucking batshit crazy woman could survive. Arthur, Georgia, and Barry all deserved better. Tyson knew that, and yet, in the end, they all died.

Conchordia had been the one person Tyson could not read. And because of that, she had outplayed him, and now, his psyche _and_ his confidence were crumbling. He felt all these pieces of his plan falling apart, crumbling to dust…

He groaned audibly, hitting his fist against the table, hunched over in mental agony, sweating and grimacing. Tyson had lost…

But… But even so, there was still a glimmer of hope… A framework running in the back of his mind…

 **Eleven players are left.**

 **If one player kills another and frames one more, they go free, leaving eight players.**

 **If the same thing happens two more times, that you leave three surviving murderers and two surviving innocents.**

There were five spots left for people to live. There were at least three more people that Tyson could save! This was not the time to question his morals. As much as Tyson felt he was in pain, as much as every thought towards another murder made him want to hurl, the tactician knew that the war was not yet over. Nyla and Conchorida had survived by _his_ hand! Even if he used monstrous methods, even if his sanity was slowly crumbling and his morality was dust.

Tyson Jin had become a monster. But he was a monster who was intent on saving as many people as he could.

A savior! Tyson just wanted to be a savior. He wanted to save as many people as he could. And because of that, he couldn't give up now.

What was it that he had told Nyla? He had convinced her to murder and place the blame on him. Place the blame on the monster who had made her do it! Place the blame on the mastermind behind this game! Do _whatever_ you can to keep yourself from blaming the most important person of all…

But for Tyson, blaming himself was the key to saving himself. While he had convinced Nyla to blame _anyone_ else, Tyson found that blaming himself for all that had transpired liberated him, making him feel as though he had finally found the monster he could finger for all of the atrocities committed inside of this manor.

Tyson knew what he had done. He was no longer denying it and running away from the truth. And because of that, he had become much more determined to see his plans through to the end.

He grinned, wiping the sweat off his brow.

 **Jeremiah, Harold, and himself were already going to live. Tyson had decided that.**

He sat on the war room's table, thinking to himself, crossing his arms and chuckling.

 **Two more spots. Two more murderers. He had to choose two people to live.**

Hopping off the table, he opened the door out of the room, smirking.

 **He would save them… For he was this game's monstrous savior.**

Tyson left. He had quickly convinced himself to continue through with his plan, which would bring about the best case scenario.

For that was a tactician's job. They couldn't break down or question their morals. They had to pick themselves up quickly and do whatever they could to take back control of the situation.

Tyson wasn't so different from Rose, was he? He wanted control. The only difference between her and him was that he _had_ control...

* * *

Soon after the trial, drawn either by hunger or by loneliness, most of the remaining participants had shown up in the dining hall.

Aaron, April, Dru, Hannah, Harold, Nick, Rose, Terry, and Tyson all sat in their usual seats, eating whatever snack that they had found in the kitchen. The room was silent for the first few minutes.

"... So… Conchordia and Lola aren't here." Aaron was the first to decide to break the silence. He hadn't been in the mood to eat, and had instead sat back, watching the others. "... We thought Lola had done it during the trial."

"..." Rose was silent, not wanting to comment. She had suspected Lola during the trial, too. One of her only friends in this hellhole of a manor… Had she really betrayed her?

"So it was probably Lola…" Dru sighed, pinching her temple. "God _fucking_ dammit, Barry, you piece of _shit_ … Why did he have to do that…?"

"Maybe he was in love…" Hannah frowned, glancing downwards. "... Wouldn't that have been nice? Instead of dying meaninglessly here… To die with the feeling that you were… Saving someone you loved."

"Yeah… No. Lola wasn't that much of a charmer." Aaron deadpanned, crossing his arms. "I don't think someone like Barry would fall for her that easily."

"Maybe he had a thing for girls with guns? I wouldn't blame him..." Terry suggested, causing most of the people at the table to look at him incredulously. "... What? A-Am… I the only guy here who… Right, I'll… I'll shut up now." He sighed, hanging his head. He was having a really hard time fitting in again.

"Ignoring Terry's grossness." Dru shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Barry just… Probably thought he was doing what was right. He must have had a gut feeling that Lola really was innocent." She lamented, trying to find some sort of meaningful explanation.

Harold nodded. "Th-that story he told us about Lola… Th-that her real name is… Tsumiko? D-Do you think… That was the truth?"

April kicked her feet up on top of the table, munching on a cookie. "Maybe. Even if it was the truth, he could've been wrong. Lola might've played along for sympathy points."

"There's no way she did that." Terry frowned. "She… she reacted to the name 'Tsumiko' with… Shock. Like she really knew it."

"Either way, if Conchordia goes through those doors.." Dru pointed to the doors leading into the dining hall. "We're never going to be able to ask Lola for the truth."

"And if Lola walks in…" Aaron started. "Then we somehow fucked the _entire_ trial up… Just as Barry said. We were in the culprit's trap."

Tyson found this to be a great time for him to jump in. "If Barry was right, and Lola was innocent, that means we made a wrong assumption somewhere down the line, but… I can't figure out what could have been wrong…"

"Let's not worry about it." April shrugged off. "Lola's the killer… We all know that… Now let's just munch our worries away and wait to die~" She sung nonchalantly, stuffing another cookie into her mouth.

"What happened to that 'take charge' attitude you had?" Aaron rose an eyebrow, looking to the trapper on his right. "I thought you were leading some 'new detective squad' or whatever."

"I tried. And then Barry got his head blown off." April remarked dryly, so to-the-point that she caused most of the room to flinch at the tactless reminder of their friend's death. "I… I'm fucking done, guys. I've blown all my care into that one case."

"Well, there's our fearless leader, gone…" Dru groaned. "You know, this is why murders keep happening. We're the most disorganized, shitty group of people I've ever seen."

"It's almost like throwing a bunch of teenagers into a life or death game might make things _chaotic_." Aaron scoffed. "Who knew?"

"Dru… Has a good point, though…" Nick finally spoke up, his eyes somewhat pink from the tears he let spill, and his whole expression gloomy and tired, a far cry from the swordsman the group had gotten used to. "We… Could have done better. Now, whether Conchordia or Lola join us… We are down to half what was used to be in only three short days…"

"Son of a _bitch_ … It really has only been three days…" Terry groaned, placing his hands on his face. "At this rate… Another murder could happen _today…_ "

It was around nine in the morning. Tyson briefly wondered if he _could_ set something up by the end of the day. It would be easier to get this all over with as quickly as possible, after all, especially since so many murders and trials could demoralize the rest of the group, making everything that much easier.

The more that people like April lost hope, the easier it would be for Tyson to help others get away with murders…

Not that Tyson was going to have a hard time of it anymore, anyway. The only remaining threat that the tactician could identify was… Aaron Wright.

April, Dru, Hannah, and Terry had already proven that they were not a threat. They couldn't piece together even the simplest of cases, Tyson wagered, and what more, April and Hannah seem to have nearly completely given up.

Rose was a fool and Tyson was surprised he ever thought of her as a rival to begin with. He had planned so far ahead with her that he had locked Jeremiah up, but now that Rose was shown to be someone who holds grudges and fails to provide much of substance to trials, Tyson almost felt as though keeping Jeremiah under lock and key was a waste.

Nick had proven to be a loyal friend to Aaron, but looking at him now, the swordsman was depressed and most of his spirit seemed drained. Even if he was smart (which Tyson quickly noted that he wasn't), he didn't have the energy to fight against a tough mystery.

Lola was likely broken after that last trial. Tyson couldn't see her getting any better after that experience, and with the group's cynic out of order, things were looking all the brighter.

Last but not least, Harold was Tyson's friend, and a valuable asset…

Therefore, the last trouble was Aaron. He was smart, capable, and still somewhat hopeful. The pharmacist's eyes darted from person to person, examining each one, trying to get a read…

Yes. Aaron Wright was definitely Tyson's last problem. The only question was whether the tactician wanted to do away with him, or save his life…

While thinking on this in the silence of the dining room, the doors suddenly opened.

And there she was.

She wore a hat that looked all too familiar to Tyson. Her sunglasses were gone, as was her gun, which she broke in the last trial. These three changes might have been minor, had it not been for the meaning attached to each of them.

The sunglasses she used to distance herself were gone.

The gun she had used to threaten and hurt was gone.

The hat of the person who had destroyed Lola Elsworth was now resting atop her head. She wasn't Lola anymore.

Her name was Tsumiko Yamamoto. She walked in with confidence, and with a look on her face that told everyone she wasn't going to take a single bit of shit.

Dru dropped her compass. "Holy shit…"

"She's…" Terry hit his wrist against the wall behind him, shuddering. Even if he had some faith in her, he was still surprised to see her walk through those doors.

Aaron's eyes were wide. "... Lola. Did you see Conchordia?"

"Don't call me that." The girl snapped, glaring towards Aaron. "I'm Tsumiko." She walked to her chair next to Rose, pulling it up and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other, looking ready for business. "Conchordia's gone. She killed them."

"WHAT!?" Hannah cried. "But we never suspected her!"

"We weren't even fucking _close_!" Aaron glared, banging his fist against the table. "God fucking _dammit!_ "

"A-At least we were close t-to figuring out i-it was Nyla in the second t-trial…." Harold flinched. "B-But here… W-We just accused Lola and Barry…. Wh-when both of them were innocent…!"

"Barry was right." Tsumiko crossed her arms. "Someone played us for a fool. Conchordia beat all of us, and now she's gone."

She glared, eyes full of determination. "But I am _not_ letting that happen again… I'm not letting more innocent lives like Barry's get crushed while some murderers get to go free…"

"Then.. D-Does that mean… You forgive-" Rose had tears in her eyes, hoping for the best, but her hopes were squandered as Tsumiko glared at her.

"No. I don't." The sharpshooter looked to the rest of the people at the table. "I don't trust any one of you. And I can't forgive what happened back there."

"Fair enough, I'd be pissed too." April shrugged. "But how are you going to prevent murders or whatever? The York twins tried, but they ended up dead pretty fast…"

"I won't." Tsumiko shook her head. "I can't prevent murders. None of us can. But what I _can_ do is promise that anyone who murders is _not_ getting out of here alive…" Her last few words were covered in the tone of a poisonous anger. She was glaring with a fire in her eyes, a fire that was clearly seen by everyone at the table now that her sunglasses were gone.

And, for once, someone other than Conchordia had defied Tyson's expectations. The tactician felt genuinely nervous at the sight of this new person, this new threat… He tried to convince himself that she spoke nothing but empty words, that his plans would go smoothly so long as planned carefully, but there was something about her…

"W-Well… Th-that's good…?" Harold rubbed the back of his neck. "We, um… Need more optimists…"

Aaron sighed. "So long as those aren't just empty words… I still remember when she went after me in the first trial."

"It won't happen again." Tsumiko closed her eyes, crossing her arms. "You have my word."

Nick smiled just a bit at this. "Haha… It is good to see such a positive change in an ally of ours…!" The swordsman seemed to perk up just a bit at this. "Perhaps there is hope for us after all!" He adjusted his shoulder pads, trying to keep himself from looking like a mess.

"Yeah." Tyson spoke up. "There may only be ten of us left, but… There's still a good chance that most of us can survive, so long as we work together."

Tsumiko kept silent for just a couple of seconds. "... Yes. Exactly."

That was an odd pause, but Tyson did his best not to act confused. He had to be more careful than ever. He had thought, just moments ago, that Aaron was his only threat, but now, it appeared that the tactician might have more to fight against than he realized.

* * *

Jeremiah Core was hungry. It had been a while since Tyson had dropped in to give him some food. The mechanic had managed to ration things out well, but even so, he just wasn't used to not having enough food for a good three meals a day.

But, at last, the trapdoor opened again, and the mechanic scrambled to his feet, glaring at the man climbing down the ladder.

"What the hell happened this time!?" Jeremiah glared. "What did you do!?"

Jeremiah felt that he'd be asking that question far too often for these next few days. He had been stuck in this cell for a couple of days now, and it felt like he had missed so much… Things were going to hell in a handbasket, and it felt as though the mechanic was so close yet so far to the action. It was like hearing about a fire on the next town over, but never going to see it.

"Here." Tyson tossed some bagged snack items into the cell. "Sorry, I kind of forgot to visit. Things got rough." The tactician had a frown on his face, and his demeanor seemed tired…

Jeremiah scoffed, glancing down at the snacks. "... So, you aren't going to give me any _real_ food this time?" He tried to prod Tyson, seeing if his captor had any energy in him. The boy simply shook his head, leaning against the far wall in the room.

"I don't have the time." The tactician sighed. "Tell you what; after this next plot, I'll get you whatever you like. For now, though, deal with the snacks. I have a lot of thinking to do."

"Who did you kill?" Jeremiah glared. "I need to know."

"..." At a time like this, Tyson would have objected, claiming that he didn't kill anyone. That he was simply manipulating the game. However, he had already come to the same conclusion that Jeremiah had. It didn't matter if he was just manipulating the game; he let these things happen. He was, in part, responsible. "I let Conchordia kill Arthur and Georgia York. We framed Barry for the murder, and he was executed."

"Christ." Jeremiah grimaced. "Just like that… Three people are dead…" It was a shocking truth to hear. It felt unreal… Mostly because he hadn't been there for any of it.

Tyson shook his head. ".. And I'd like to apologize to you, Jeremiah. I made a grave mistake." He spoke solemnly, glancing down, crossing his arms. This caught the mechanic's attention, causing him to break out of his grieving.

"A grave mistake?" Jeremiah echoed. "Are you going to stop this madness, then? Can you keep everyone who's still alive to work together?"

"Oh, no. No no no…" Tyson chuckled, a small smirk on his face as he shook his head. "This won't stop, Jeremiah. There's still five people I need to save…"

The tactician grinned, clenching his fists. "... I wanted to apologize for acting like a hero. As though I were just saving your life without consequence. I understand now. I've _hit reality._ What I'm doing is _wrong._ I'm aware of that now."

"So you can stop." Jeremiah glared, grasping onto some hope, clutching the bars of his cell. "You can still stop this and-"

"No." Tyson frowned, crossing his arms. "... I can't. Because even though I know this is wrong… That's… That's the point. That's my _revelation_ , Jeremiah. I've made peace with the fact that what I'm doing is completely immoral…" He smirked, putting a hand to his face. "But even then, it's still the best outcome. By having people murder and get away with it, I'm saving _lives._ I don't give a damn if my methods are wrong. The outcome is what's important."

"The end doesn't justify the means." Jeremiah glared. "You're still in the wrong. You're a fucking _monster_ , Tyson! Do you know just how much blood is on your hands!?" He yelled, having enough of the tactician's shit. Tyson just grinned.

"Would you have rather let everyone die until only one or two remain?" Tyson wondered. "I might be a monster, but I'm a monster who's getting things _done._ "

He looked to the trapdoor above him. "I'm going to go. After this next plan, I'll get you whatever you want. Be thankful. I'm doing these terrible, awful things to save your life, and the lives of others."

Jeremiah shook his head. "... You just don't understand. I will _never_ be thankful for what you're doing here." The mechanic frowned. "There's a line to be drawn, Tyson. There's a point where saving a life _isn't_ worth it. You're sacrificing so many innocent people just to save a few…"

"As opposed to sitting on my ass and watching them _all_ die." Tyson glared. "Listen. I know what I'm doing is wrong now. I'm going to accept that… But I also believe that what I'm doing will lead to the best possible outcome for us…"

 **For that was the ultimate challenge of this game.**

 **It had been made clear after the first trial that this game was all about saving lives. Would everyone vote for the culprit who murdered their friend, or vote for an innocent in order to save the culprit's life and sacrifice the innocent's?**

 **However, Tyson would not allow the game to be played in that way. Instead, he took away the choice from everyone else by masquerading innocents as culprits, and keeping the culprits from being accused. That was his sin, but it was a sin that, with the help of Conchordia, he was finally willing to accept.**

 **Tyson Jin was doing monstrous things, but for a good end. It was the wrong thing to do, yet the right thing to do…**

"Goodbye, Jeremiah."

Tyson wouldn't let the paradoxical nature of what he was doing get him down. He had planning to do.

He left the room, leaving the mechanic by his lonesome, once again forced to sit and wait.

Jeremiah had to think of some way out of here. Some way to disrupt Tyson's plans… But how? He checked around his cell room, annoyed. He couldn't just do _nothing_ this whole time, and yet, he had no tools available to him to help him break out. He needed to come up with some sort of plan.

* * *

"Tyson!" Harold went up to his friend, finding him in the hall. "Wh-what happened? I-Is Conchordia really…"

"I'll explain everything." Tyson frowned, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "But we need to go to my room."

Harold was unsure, still nervous… But nodded, following the tactician upstairs. Making sure that nobody followed them, the two entered Tyson's room so that the tactician could explain all that had happened.

"Conchordia did it, and blackmailed me." Tyson explained quickly, pacing in his room. Harold sat down on the bed, shocked. "She said she would expose us if I didn't help her. So I did. She's gone."

"Sh-she really…" Harold bit his lip. "And… Y-You were going after Lo- Tsumiko, right?" The executioner lowered his head. "B-But Barry… He…"

Tyson groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Don't remind me. I fucking hate that he had to die…." The young man sighed. "But we have to move on. We have to get another murder rolling, _now_."

"B-But… What if Nyla or Conchordia come back with help…?" Harold wondered. "I-I mean… Th-they could…?" Tyson shook his head in response.

"I'm not risking another Conchordia incident." The tactician's voice was clear and to the point as he paced and talked, putting a hand to his chin, thinking as quickly as he could. "If another person kills before we can do anything about it… More people could needlessly die. And we're on thin ice, remember. If only one person dies needlessly, then that's one less life we can save."

Harold blinked, doing the numbers in his head…

 **Right now, there were eleven people. That left room for three murderers, frames, and victims, alongside the final two survivors. If even one person died, that would prevent one murderer from getting away, meaning they would lose one life that they could've saved.**

"R-Right…" Harold bit his lip. "S-So… W-We really do need to act fast…. T-To make sure more people survive."

The tactician nodded. "Correct. So, we have to be quick. You, Jeremiah, and myself will survive if our plans go smoothly. But who else? There's two people we have to help get out of here."

"..." Harold rubbed his arm, thinking about it. "... Th-there's only eight people we can choose from, right…? H-How do we decide who lives and who dies…?"

 **Aaron Wright**

 **April Nun**

 **Dru West**

 **Hannah Snow**

 **Nick Icarus**

 **Rose Major**

 **Terry Holds**

 **Tsumiko Yamamoto**

Two had to become murderers. Three had to become victims. The final three had to become frames for the murderers to come.

They had to decide, here and now, who they wanted to survive.

"I think we can cross Tsumiko off the list." Tyson frowned. "She's an arsonist. Barry thought she didn't mean it, but, she still set a great fire and ran away from it."

"Y-Yeah, I've executed arsonists before." Harold agreed quickly. "But, um… Wouldn't it be disrespectful to Barry's memory…? H-He… He sacrificed h-himself so she could live…"

While Tyson was strictly business, Harold was doing his best to add a bit of humanity to the conversation. Which was odd for him, as Harold never found himself to be the type to care about such abstract concepts as 'humanity' and 'doing the right thing'. Harold wasn't sure what was causing this change within him.

"..." Tyson sighed. Yeah, he remembered that. "Let's… Let's just push the decision of what to do with her back. It's not like we can get her to kill anyone, anyway."

Harold nodded in agreement. "S-Speaking of… Rose and Nick definitely wouldn't kill, right? N-Nick's all about justice, and, um… R-Rose is… Well… R-Rose…" The executioner hugged his halberd, remembering just how adamant she was after that first trial…

"Right." Tyson sighed. "So… That leaves Aaron, April, Dru, Hannah, and Terry, right?" He paced back and forth, thinking.

"... I think Terry should live." Harold admitted. "He… He's a n-nice guy."

He remembered talking to Terry on the elevator. He didn't want Terry to die. The animal photographer was completely out of his element, fumbling around, scared… But he still managed to be kind. Someone like that shouldn't die.

"..." Tyson considered this. "... But… Would he kill?"

"W-Would anyone?" Harold wondered, laying on the bed. "N-Nyla only killed because we pressured her, and… Th-the circumstances just lined up…"

Tyson bit his lip. "... We'll figure something out. I'll consider Terry someone we want to survive." The tactician made a mental checklist in his head.

In his mind, any of these people could live or die. He didn't care. So long as the maximum amount of people survived, the tactician would be happy with his efforts… But there was one person that interested him…

"Aaron's a threat." Tyson echoed a thought he just had, reminding himself of his thoughts during the dining hall conversation. "But… He's also a pharmacist. A pharmacist who's been to medical school, no less. Doesn't that make him… Important?"

"H-He seems kinda young to be, um, a pharmacist…" Harold frowned, but considered it. "B-But… He wears those gloves and lab coat… M-Maybe he's in training…?"

"He could save lives with medicine." Tyson bit his thumb. "No matter which way you look at it, a man of medicine is more important than a trapper, a cartographer, a dancer, a swordsman… His 'ultimate' title is simply more valuable."

"So… H-His life is more valuable…?" Harold wondered, unsure. "Can we… R-Really value lives like that…?"

"Of course." Tyson replied with certainty. "I do it all the time."

 **Lives have values.**

 **Tyson Jin, as a tactician, was aware of what aspects made a life more valuable or less valuable.**

 **He knows that, when given the choice to save a man without anyone in his life or a woman with several children, he should save the woman who has people to support.**

 **He knows that, when given the choice to save a doctor or a mailman, the doctor is more important to society and therefore, should be saved.**

 **It was just a truth of the world to Tyson. Several people may disagree, but to him, someone who wanted to be trained to make split-second decisions of great importance… The fact that some lives were more valuable than others was just that: a fact.**

 **And, in this case…**

"Aaron Wright is smart. If it weren't for those like Rose who constantly accuse him, he might have found us suspicious by now." Tyson determined. "Not only that, but he has a talent that could be used to save lives. We need to save him."

"A-And… If we do it s-sooner rather than later… H-He won't be a threat?" Harold wondered. "And then, w-we won't have anything to worry about…"

Tyson nodded, in agreement. "Exactly. We should speak to him soon. He's smart, and therefore, should be reasonable…"

"But… H-He's close to Nick…" Harold tipped his head. "Are we sure… H-He would kill…? And leave Nick behind?" The executioner bounced off the bed, picking up his halberd as he noticed Tyson moving to the door.

"We'll have to see." Tyson smirked, determined. "But… I'm sure we can make him see the light."

The tactician had to make sure Aaron killed, and soon. It wouldn't be easy. But with the stress and pressure that this murder game was surmounting on each of them, Tyson was sure that he could pull something off… He just had to get him away from Nick.

Harold nodded, following Tyson with a small smile. He felt safe with the tactician. So long as this plan worked out for them… The executioner was sure that things would be alright.

* * *

Tsumiko Yamamoto had several thoughts and feelings running through her head at any given instant. Accepting this 'name change' was no easy feat for her. It felt as though every movement she made was not her own, as though she were possessed by some new spirit she had never felt inside of her before. This morning had inspired such a great change in her, such a great moment of development, that she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable calling herself 'Lola' anymore. She was, for the first time in years, fully aware that 'Lola' was the fake and 'Tsumiko' was reality.

Tsumiko had accepted a truth that she had spent so long running away from. And yet, despite this huge personal event that rocked her character to its very core… It felt unceremonious. As though this was something that simply didn't _matter._ Some part of Tsumiko knew it was silly to expect some sort of 'congratulations' for accepting herself, but, she had expected, at the very least, to be happy. To be happy that she could call herself by her given name, to be happy that she could remember her friends and family as just that: her _friends_ and her _family…_. And, yet, the sacrifice it took to get herself to this point was the key that made it all not worth it.

… That fucking idiot of a journalist...

She adjusted the hat on her head for comfort's sake, walking along the second floor, checking a new room with Rose, Dru, and Terry. It was a room that had been unlocked in the hallway that circled the upper garden, and it led to a large, square, white room full of boring paintings and statues. None of them seemed inspired in the least, as though they were all hurriedly made for people to look at and pass by meaninglessly.

"Why is so much of this place so bland and boring?" Dru scoffed. "It's annoying me. Can't we have _one_ nice thing?"

"The theater was nice…" Terry commented, flicking his wrist with a sad frown. "... N-Not anymore, though…" He immediately regretted his comment, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dru rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, jackass." She looked to one of the white, marble statues in the room; it was depicting the bear that was running this game and forcing them all to kill each other. "Oh, great. Now we have decor of our 'host'. Fucking lovely."

Tsumiko had noticed Dru's mood go from bad to worse as the morning went on. The sharpshooter could hardly blame her, though, all things considered. This morning was… _Hell._ She was surprised that anyone other than herself had the energy to get up and explore the manor. The only reason she had the energy and courage was because of…

She touched the hat on her head again.

But when she looked to Terry, who was shaking and seemed even worse after Dru's remark… She realized that it might not have been just a matter of energy or courage. Some of them explored and moved on simply because they felt they had to. There was fear in their hearts, and yet… They all moved on in the hope that they could live.

… Maybe she should check up on him, and anyone else who's having a hard time. She'd start with Dru.

"Hey." Tsumiko walked up to Dru. "How are you holding up?" She didn't skip a beat, not caring much for the formality of the thing. After that trial this morning, she didn't quite _respect_ many of these people, nor did she trust them, but… They were still human beings, and some part of Tsumiko wanted to make sure they'd be alright.

"Not well." Dru bit her thumb. "We're down to half our group size, someone who I _thought_ was my friend was actually going to kill me, and I'm pretty sure I'm traumatized five times over." She glared. "... As you can tell, I'm not exactly in the mood for small talk, so if this isn't something important…"

Tsumiko sighed. Well, this was just wasted effort, now wasn't it? "I just wanted to see if you were okay… And clearly you're not. Anything I can do?"

"Got a way out of here?" Dru glared. "If not, then no, there's _nothing_ you can do."

 _Sheesh._ Tsumiko frowned, finding this conversation to have been completely worthless. "Right… Never mind." She walked away, leaving Dru to her grumbling and cynicism. Things were bad, but, even Tsumiko was doing her best to keep spirits high… Sort of… Kind of…

She touched her hat. She was doing her _best_ , dammit, and maybe some of the others could actually _help her_. Then again, she did draw a pretty fine line in the sand just an hour earlier. She made it clear that she didn't trust anyone here… But that didn't mean she couldn't help.

She went over to Rose, next. The judge-to-be seemed exceptionally nervous, and that nervousness only grew as Tsumiko moved to speak with her.

"Hey." The sharpshooter frowned. "... How are you holding up?"

"I…" Rose sighed, glancing downwards. "I'm… O-Okay, I guess, but… L-Listen, Lola-"

"Tsumiko." She quickly corrected, glaring at the other girl.

"T-Tsumiko…" Rose gulped. "... I'm sorry. I-I'm really sorry for accusing you.. I-I just… I was wrong, and I-I'm so sorry…" She bit her lip, hugging herself. "I… I don't want to lose my best friend in this _hellhole_ because I made a dumb mistake, so… Please. I-I'm begging for you to forgive me…"

Tsumiko let out a small 'tsk' noise. She was annoyed. She _had_ trusted Rose, seeing as the girl seemed smart, and seemed impartial… Lola had seen her as a leader type that could be trusted. But _Lola_ was wrong. Tsumiko had no reason to trust or forgive Rose.

"..." The sharpshooter flipped her hair. "Let's just act like we're starting from square one. Okay?" She decided, turning to Rose. "I… Can't forgive you. Not yet. But I can try to start again."

"..." Rose let out a small sigh of relief, smiling gently. "... O-Okay. I can deal with that. Thank you, Tsumiko."

Tsumiko gave the other girl a small smile and nod. "Of course. Stay safe." She moved away from Rose, giving the judge some time to think.

Tsumiko was still unsure of whether or not she should have let things go that easily… But it would be useless to keep grudges in this place. If she truly wanted to make good on her promise to catch future murderers, she needed to make nice with everyone she could. Knowing and keeping an eye on as many people as she could would be wise…

Finally, Tsumiko moved to Terry. "Hey. How are you?"

Terry blinked several times, surprised. He must not have expected anyone, much less Tsumiko, to check up on him. "U-Um, I'm… I-I'll be fine. What about you? Are you okay, L- er, Tsumiko…?" The photographer pulled at the collar of his shirt nervously.

The sharpshooter was thankful that she didn't have to correct Terry. Though she wasn't sure how she could answer his question. "I'm…" She rubbed her arm. "... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to make sure we'll all okay."

"..." Terry didn't seem convinced, but he shook his head. "Alright, but… If you need anything, uh, I-I'm here." He bit his lip. "That speech you gave earlier, was… R-Really badass." That was blunt. "And I think… I can trust you, so… K-Keep that in mind."

Tsumiko blinked, surprised. "... Ah… Alright. Thank you, Terry."

The photographer gave her a small smile. "Heh…. No problem. I, uh… Just want to do something productive… I-Instead of being scared. You know?" He had remembered what Harold had told him.

"I appreciate that." Tsumiko smiled back. "I'll let you know if I need your help."

"Thanks." Terry nodded, flicking his wrist. "I'm… Gonna check around here for now. I'll let you know if, uh, I find anything…"

Terry went to work. Well, for someone who seemed so down in the dumps earlier, Terry was proving to be actually kind of useful. Tsumiko nodded to herself, remembering this as she, too, began checking the room, hoping to find something of use.

An exit… A tool… Anything. Something that can help to end this nightmare… Perhaps something was left behind…

It was a small hope… But Tsumiko kept faith. If she acted as though she were already defeated, then, she really would be. There was still a chance. And so long as there was an opportunity for Tsumiko to survive this hell without resorting to murder… She would find it!

* * *

Tyson and Harold entered the newly-unlocked door from the second floor staircase room that led into a brand new hallway. It was another white and black, monochromatic hallway that felt just as depressing as all the rest.

There were two doors, one to Tyson's left and the other to his right. He frowned, immediately moving to the right door, peeking inside.

There was a small lounge, similar to the one downstairs, only this one had several window… Dark, black windows that showed nothing but stone on the other side.

This confirmed something Tyson thought earlier, when he had seen Nyla take an elevator up, out of the manor. This meant that they were underground. It made sense; putting this twisted place above ground would make it much easier to find… But why make it look like a manor? To fuck with them? The tactician sighed, confused…

"So, we're underground." April quipped, laying down on the couch in the room. She was looking up at the ceiling, blankness in her eyes. "... Bleh. Who cares. I think I'm getting used to all this unbelievable bullshit going on around me…"

Tyson frowned, glancing behind him. Harold was there, shrugging to Tyson. They both hadn't notice April sneak up behind them and move to the room's couch. That was… Disturbing.

"... You two gonna say anything?" April sighed. "The silent treatment's creeping me out."

"Sorry. I'm not exactly as used to 'unbelievable bullshit' as you are." Tyson lied, rolled his eyes. "... I'm… Gonna go. C'mon, Harold."

"Right behind you." The executioner smiled, following him. April rolled her eyes, leaving the two boys be. Whatever. She would kick back here and wait.

* * *

Tyson and Harold went into the room on the left, next, finding that it was one of the only rooms in the entire manor that truly fit the monochromatic theme. It was a laboratory, filled with vials, sinks, chemicals, and equipment that Tyson simply didn't recognize. He was never very good when it came to his science classes, so most of this stuff looked alien to him.

Unsurprisingly, though, he found Aaron and Nick here.

"... And that mixture can be used as a pain reliever, but you have to make sure you've got the _exact_ right amounts, or it could be lethal. That's why some of this medicine costs so much." Aaron was in the middle of a lecture of sorts. He was smirking, finding some pleasure in talking about his field of expertise. "The machinery necessary to ensure the medicine is safe for people to take can be extremely expensive. There's also tests, research, and trying to see what works without any negative side effects…"

"Your profession sounds complicated, friend Aaron." Nick frowned; he had a look on his face that made it clear that half of that had just gone over his head. "But important! It's almost like… Alchemy! Can you brew potions?" He grinned, excited. Aaron just let out a chuckle.

"No, I can't brew 'potions'... Doesn't work that way." The pharmacist smiled. "But, hell, if alchemy actually worked, I'd be all over it. Making magical potions that can do almost _anything?..._ Man, believing that I could do stuff like that was what got me into chemistry and medicine in the first place…"

"You still could!" Nick grinned. "Perhaps you could brew me a potion of strength some day?"

"That's… That's steroids, Nick." Aaron laughed that off, shaking his head. "That's liquid steroids."

"Oh. Right." Nick frowned, rubbing the back of his head. He glanced towards Tyson and Harold, smiling. "Ah! Friends! Come, join us! Aaron was just teaching me about his talent!"

Tyson smiled, nodding. "Yeah, it sounded fun… Uh, actually, I wanted to talk with Aaron privately. It's about earlier."

Just the word 'earlier' seemed to drain whatever happiness had been displayed on Aaron and Nick's expressions. The two looked between each other, unsure, but…

"Right." Aaron frowned. "We can continue this earlier- uh, later. Later."

"Oh, Nick, I-I want to see s-some of the things you can do w-with that sword…!" Harold's eyes shined. "C-Can I?"

Nick smiled, nodding gently. "Right. I'll go with you, then, ally Harold!" He looked to Aaron. "I'll come back once we're done!... Keep safe, friend Aaron."

Aaron smiled, nodding. "Right. Same to you, big guy."

* * *

As Harold and Nick left the laboratory, Tyson and Aaron sat at one of lab tables, across from each other. Tyson adjusted his vest, preparing for a long conversation. This was going to be difficult, but, if he could just convince Aaron… That would be a life saved…

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Aaron frowned, keeping a hand inside of his lab coat's pocket. "This morning was… Chaotic, wasn't it?"

"Very." Tyson frowned. "But I wanted to talk to you about what happened…" He looked down, considering what he should say. He needed to choose his next words very carefully-

 **CLICK.**

Tyson heard a sigh come from Aaron. "You mean about how you helped framed Lola and Barry?"

Tyson's eyes widened. He looked up at Aaron, only to see a metal cylinder pointed straight at him…

Oh god. That was a _gun_.

"... Aaron. Put that down." Tyson breathed heavily, shocked. He looked up at Aaron's expression; the pharmacist was glaring, but didn't seem fiery about it. It was as though he simply wanted to look _intimidating_.

"I don't think so." The pharmacist glared, keeping both of his hands on his gun. "Not until you explain what the _hell_ you did."

"How did you even _get_ that thing…?" Tyson desperately tried to change the topic. He needed time to think.

"The room across from us. It was on a mantle. Locked and loaded." Aaron smirked. "Now. Answer the fucking question, Tyson."

The gun was a gold-coated desert eagle. It could have been just for show. But Tyson also couldn't be sure. And right now, it wasn't wise to assume it was a fake.

"... I… Don't know what you want me to say." The tactician glared back. "What's your basis for suspecting me of doing something…?"

"Well I'm not a fucking idiot, for one thing." Aaron hissed. "Took me a bit to understand why. But once Lola showed up in the dining hall... I finally got it. It wasn't her, and it wasn't Barry. What does that mean?"

"..." Tyson sighed, keeping his eyes on the barrel of the gun. "... Explain." Again, Tyson made a move that would buy him time.

Aaron rolled his eyes. "Fucking… _Fine._ So, if they're both innocent, that means the basis for us suspecting them was wrong. It sounded like it was impossible for anyone other than them to have killed Arthur and Georgia… But, if they're both innocent, things make sense again. The culprit didn't have to do a whole bunch of bullshit cleaning beforehand. They just had to fake a chase, didn't they?"

"..." Tyson kept silent. He didn't move. He had to think; figure out a way out of this situation…

Aaron pressed on. "Conchordia could have easily masqueraded as Georgia in that black cloak, dress thing. Then, she just needed a guy to play along with her. So, who here would Conchordia trust to help her get away with murder?"

"... The person who she was partnered with." Tyson concluded. "Is that it? That's why you're pointing a gun at me?" The tactician scoffed.

"I didn't do it. Nick sure as hell didn't. You're the only one in this hellhole that trusts Harold. It's between you and Terry." Aaron smirked. "Unless you want to accuse Terry… It's you. _You_ helped Conchordia escape. _You_ got Barry killed."

"..." Tyson was stiff. "... I… I did." He grimaced, locking eyes with Aaron. "I'll admit it, then. You got me. Conchordia had me help her." He laid down his cards for the man with the gun. There was no denying that kind of accusation, especially when Tyson himself knew it was true, and _especially_ while he was at gunpoint.

"Why?" Aaron glared. "Why did you help her?" He kept the gun pointed directly at the tactician. Tyson gulped, but tried to keep as calm as he could as he responded.

"... Because otherwise… Nobody would be saved." Tyson spoke carefully, watching Aaron's reaction. The pharmacist's glare softened...

"... So. You realized it, too." Aaron sighed, his expression turning back to his usual, frowny self. "The kind of game we're in?"

"... Yeah." Tyson's eyes widened as he was surprised for the second time. "You- You did, too?"

"I told you already. I'm not an idiot." Aaron put away his gun, standing up as he walked over to the nearby medicine that he had been using to teach Nick earlier. "The rules were made clear the moment Jeremiah disappeared. If a culprit gets away, they get to live. That's the only way out of this hell. If a culprit gets caught, then, the whole murder's a waste. Meaningless. Two or three lives, lost, and nobody gets to go free."

"That's.. That's why I couldn't let Conchordia die." Tyson stood up, following Aaron. "You understand, then? There's still a chance for more people to live…"

"I understand. But it fucking _sucks._ " Aaron groaned, glaring towards Tyson. He made sure he could still pull out his gun at any time, not fully trusting Tyson. "This system actively rewards people who kill, and fucks over anyone who doesn't kill. The only way you can survive without killing is by being one of the final survivors. And, right now, being a final survivor doesn't look very fucking likely."

 **Right. Aaron believed there were ten people left. And since he understood the rules of the game, he understood the likelihood of becoming a final survivor was very slim.**

 **At ten people, if the murderers got away with every case, the remaining players would go from ten to seven to four to, finally, one. That means that being an innocent and surviving, in a perfect scenario, was extremely unlikely.**

 **However, the situation with four people was interesting… If one person is killed, that leave three people; a murderer and two innocents. It** _ **is**_ **possible that the murderer could be voted…. And, in that case, two innocents survive…**

 **But there is also the possibility of another 'Conchordia incident' occurring. In which case, the player count could go from ten to six, six to three… In a situation like that, it would be impossible to survive as an innocent. After all, a murderer would just have to kill two people to survive… They would have no contest.**

"If another double murder occurs, and the murderer gets away with it, we're in a bad situation." Tyson realized. "Six people remaining… That would be the worst possible scenario."

"I already asked Monokuma what happens if the game gets down to four people, and the culprit kills two." Aaron frowned. "You know what happens? The culprit automatically wins. The remaining innocent gets executed."

"Son of a bitch…" Tyson bit his thumb. He had never heard that before… Mostly because he had never planned for it. He hoped that situation wouldn't come up. "So… That means…"

Aaron nodded, letting out another sigh as he messed with the chemicals in front of him. "If the player count goes down to four or three… The innocents are simply _fucked._ A murderer can easily guarantee victory."

The pharmacist crossed his arms. "That means… The only way to survive as an innocent is to do one of the following…"

 **The first way to survive as an innocent would be to make it to a player count of 5. At that point, allow a murderer to kill a single other innocent. Then, let the culprit get away with their crime, thereby leaving two sole survivors of the game behind. It is also possible to pull off a similar stunt by having a murderer kill two people at a player count of 6, then allowing them to get away with their crime.**

 **The second way to survive as an innocent would be to make it to a player count of 4. At that point, make sure the culprit only kills one person; if you can prevent them from killing a second, you can catch the murderer in the trial and survive with another innocent. This method is unlikely, yet plausible.**

"If a culprit kills when you're at three people… It's either you kill them, or you're fucked." Aaron frowned. "Being an innocent and surviving, in a game like this, is extremely unlikely. But that's probably the point…"

"You either let a murderer get away with murder at five or six people…" Tyson grimaced, understanding. "Or you stop a murderer at four people… Is that it?"

Aaron nodded. "... To tell the truth, I was banking on one of those scenarios happening. You know why? There's a little, common thread to each outcome I just told you about."

 **There was a similar outcome to each method of survival…**

"... In every outcome… Two people survive." Tyson realized. "The only way to guarantee survival as an innocent is to ensure that two innocents survive. Right?"

Aaron nodded. "The only way for _only one_ innocent to survive is if, at four people, a murderer kills someone, leaving three. At that point, if an innocent is voted, that leaves the murderer and one innocent. But it's highly unlikely that a culprit is just going to _get away_ with their murder with only three people in the trial. And I'd find it even more unlikely that a murderer would only kill one person in that scenario. If they kill two, they guarantee their survival."

Tyson understood now. "So… You were hoping that you and Nick might both survive together, in one of these situations, right?"

Aaron grinned. "You get it."

 **Aaron and Nick were the perfect pair for either of the scenarios Aaron described.**

 **At six or five people, Aaron would understand that a murderer would need to kill and get away with their murder for two people to survive. He could speak to a potential murderer, have them kill, and then, at the trial, there would be four people remaining; himself, Nick, the culprit, and a frame.**

 **Even if Nick didn't agree with the methods used, Aaron would be a vote against the frame. The murderer would also vote against a frame. Even if Nick and the frame both voted against the murderer, that would lead to a tie.**

 **Aaron could convince Nick to vote for the frame, seeing as there would be no other way to survive. The game was cruel and unfair, and the murderer was a victim of circumstance, while the frame was some cowardly do-nothing. No matter what method Aaron used, since he and the murderer would be unlikely to budge… He, Nick, and the killer would walk away free. However, that came at the large cost of possibly ruining his and Nick's friendship, or worse, it could be possible that Nick would not budge, either, thereby causing a complete standstill.**

 **Meanwhile, in the second scenario, they would have to stop a killer. Seeing as Nick was the strongest man in the manor, Aaron had a gun, and they were always together… A killer would have a very hard time trying to kill one of them. They could easily stop a killer from guaranteeing victory, thereby voting for them in a trial and getting away as the two final innocents.**

"So that's your plan?" Tyson wondered. "To… Make sure one of these scenarios happens, and to live like that?"

"Not anymore." Aaron frowned. "As much as I'd _like_ to…. It's pretty unlikely now."

"Right." Tyson understood quickly. "Because, the way things are going… Murderers are getting away with their crimes…"

"And I see no reason to stop them, so long as it doesn't screw over Nick or myself." Aaron frowned. "So…"

 **Ten people. If a regular murder occurs, that would leave seven. If another murder occurred, Aaron** _ **could**_ **find the murderer… But that would assume that he could find them in the first place. Each murderer had escaped him so far, and his mystery-solving confidence was low. If he failed to find the murderer, that would bring the number of players down to 4, leading to the worst possible scenario; the scenario where he and Nick would have to wait for a murder to occur and keep the murderer from killing anyone else.**

 **There was the possibility of a double murder occurring at this point. If so, that left six people, meaning another double murder would bring Aaron to the desired 'killer-innocent-innocent-frame' outcome. The best outcome. However, that would require two double murders to occur, and that was incredibly unlikely, especially seeing as nobody in the manor seemed to be as absolutely insane as Conchordia was.**

Tyson sighed, rubbing his temple, thinking this through. "And that's not even considering what happens if you or Nick become one of the victims…"

"And there's no guarantee that a _murderer_ would keep their word… Even if I made a deal with the devil at six or five people, they could kill me or Nick instead." Aaron shook his head. "And… Getting people to kill isn't as easy as I'm making it sound. It's possible that, at six or five people, nobody would be willing to kill, and the game comes to a standstill."

"That's even more likely at four people, isn't it?" Tyson wondered. "Because if you and Nick stick together…. A potential killer would have to kill at least one of you to guarantee their victory. And that just won't happen… So they wouldn't kill."

"Exactly." Aaron let out another sigh, crossing his arms. "The numbers seem good, but when we involve _human beings_ … It's just not likely that Nick and I can survive as innocents."

"So…. What's your plan?" Tyson rose an eyebrow. "Are you… Going to kill?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it." Aaron admitted, pulling out his gun, examining it with a frown. "... But… To kill someone, and then frame another… I don't know if I could do that. I don't believe I could walk out of here and insist I'm a sane, moral human being after killing two people for my own survival, when I wasn't _directly forced_ to kill anyone."

"Even under the threat of poison?" Tyson wondered. "Monokuma could just do that to us again."

Aaron went silent, placing his gun back in the pocket of his lab coat. "... You're trying to convince me, then. That's what this is?" He crossed his arms, looking pointedly towards Tyson. "You're trying to get me to kill?"

The tactician simply nodded. "If you kill, and get away with it, that leaves seven people. My goal is for Harold and I to make it out of here alive… And if I help you get out of here alive, that only helps further my goal."

"If I kill and get away with it, that leaves seven people." Aaron determined. "At that point… What would you and Harold do to live?"

"The maximum number of people who can live at that point is 3." Tyson reminded. "So, I want to help Harold, myself, and a third person live. At that point, it would be best for me to make another deal like this one with someone…"

"That person murders, gets away with it, and then you get to four people." Aaron nodded along. "At that point, there's four people…"

"Harold kills. Then it's him, a frame, and myself. We both vote for the frame, and we win." Tyson nodded as well, keeping pace. "And by keeping ourselves in the game for as long as possible, we ensure that as many people survive as possible… You and some other person."

Aaron nodded. "... So, that's your plan…" The pharmacist sighed, putting his head on the table, thinking to himself.

Tyson crossed his arms. "We're at ten people. So, only four can survive… And I want to make sure all four survive."

 **This was, of course, a lie. There were actually eleven people.**

 **The important part about there being eleven people was that, if Aaron knew this fact, it changed things for him. Instead of two double murders occurring or a bunch of different murders occurring without him or Nick getting targeted… All that would need to occur are three normal murders. Each time, Aaron convinces a new person to kill, and they get away with it… It goes from eleven, to eight, to five, to two. He and Nick survive with (mostly) no blood on their hands. At the five person scenario, things would be much easier to get past Nick; Aaron would have had more time and experience and could feel more confidence about framing a final victim and helping himself and Nick leave while Nick remains none the wiser about what happened.**

 **But if Tyson told him that… He wouldn't feel pressured to kill. Right now, Aaron was under the trap of assuming that only ten people were participating in this killing game…**

"Look…" Aaron sighed. "I see what you're doing here, and it's smart. But what prevents me from doing the same thing?" He turned to Tyson with a frown. "You could kill. I help you get away with it. Then Harold kills, we help him get away with it, then I will kill last."

"Do you _really_ think Nick would be okay with you then?" Tyson frowned. "And, like you said, I'm not sure if you have the heart to kill and frame so mercilessly like that. I think you have to have motivations other than escape behind it."

"..." The pharmacist adjusted his gloves, nervous. "... You're right. I think Nick would execute me in that case… I… I believe he'd look past me being his friend, so that he could do the right thing. And that would just… Hurt him."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, slamming his fist against the table. "Dammit!" He groaned. "I just… I want him to live. But he's not going to, is he? There's not a _fucking_ chance… He would never kill. He's too good of a person…"

"And you would?" Tyson wondered. Aaron glared towards the tactician.

"... It depends." Aaron dodged the question. "It just depends. I need to think this over."

"I think it's as you say, Aaron…" Tyson didn't let the conversation end, though. "Nick wouldn't kill. And if he wants to live, he would have to either _kill_ … Or let a murderer get away with their crime."

 **In a playing field with only ten people, it was impossible for 4 survivors to get away without each one of them having blood on their hands.**

 **Two survivors had to kill to get out; that would leave four players in the game. At that point, one player would have to kill another, leaving three alone.**

 **At this point, it's a culprit and two potential survivors…**

"Unless you think the culprit can completely frame the other person and fool Nick… Keeping him until the end isn't viable." Tyson frowned. "He won't survive."

"..." Aaron winced. "... But, if we get to the final four…" He tried to cling onto some hope, but, he had already thought this out a hundred times.

"Like you said, nobody would murder in that case. They would know they could be stopped." Tyson frowned. "Because Nick and whoever else would team up and make sure they don't die."

"And an ultimate swordsman wouldn't be killed so easily. Especially since _I_ have the only working gun in the manor." Aaron groaned, examining his weapon. "... Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ …"

"Aaron, if you want to survive, you _have_ to kill soon." Tyson pressured him, crossing his arms. "Nick.. I'll do my best to find a way to get him to survive. I'll promise you that. But if you don't do something soon, you could _die._ " The tactician glared. "And I need someone like you to make a move, _soon_ , so that people can live. If we don't act fast, we're giving people like Tsumiko time to get their bearings and solve any murders that occur."

"Which… Would fuck over anyone who wants to live…" Aaron grimaced, holding his head in his hands. "But…. Dammit! I can't just leave Nick!"

"You're going to _have_ to." Tyson slammed his hands onto the desk, taking charge. "It's either you do that, or you risk your life. Do you want another Conchordia incident to happen? I haven't seen Hannah in some time… Perhaps she's planning something."

Aaron glared, getting agitated. " _Fuck you…_ But…." The pharmacist groaned, slamming his fist against the desk. "... I… I don't want to die… Not here. Not now…"

He was breathing heavily, incredibly pressured… After all of that talk, Tyson had finally managed to back him into a corner…

This conversation had started with Aaron pointing a gun at Tyson. But, now, it was as though their roles had been swapped. Tyson held Nick's probable death over the pharmacist, pressuring him to kill…

The tactician checked his ElectroID. "It's noon. Bring your target to the dining hall in three hours. Harold and I will make sure nobody disturbs you."

"..." Aaron was silent, hanging his head. "... And what if I don't?"

"Well, I suppose you could fruitlessly try to save Nick's life." Tyson smirked. "But, remember… The only way you can do that is if you make yourself a monster."

 **Nothing Aaron could do in a ten-person situation could truly save Nick without consequences.**

 **If two murders occur and the culprits go free, that leaves 4 people. That leads to the 4-person standoff where nobody kills because Aaron and Nick are protecting each other.**

 **If two murders occur and only one culprit goes free, that leaves 5 people. From there, if a culprit killed, that leaves 4 people. Voting for a frame would be obvious at that point, and Nick wouldn't agree to not voting the culprit, even if it guaranteed his own safety.**

 **And no culprit in their right mind would commit a double murder at 5 people. After all, not only does that leave less suspects (and, therefore, less of a chance for the culprit to get away), but it would also mean that, even if the culprit got away, only the culprit and a single survivor would live. That's even worse than the possible culprit and two survivor scenario.**

 **The only way they could possibly survive is if Nick were willing to kill or do something immoral, like vote for someone other than the true culprit. The fact was that, if you viewed this game from a tactical standpoint, Nick Icarus had no chance of surviving.**

"..." A tear rolled down Aaron's face. He couldn't figure it out. "... Fine… I… I'll be there."

He didn't want to. He never wanted to. And, yet, he had to if he wanted to live. He felt pressured at all angles… By Tyson, by the possibility of his friend dying, by the possibility of _him_ dying…

And Aaron just wasn't ready to die. There was so much he still wanted to do…

"..." Tyson put a hand on the pharmacist's shoulder. "Thank you, Aaron. You're making the right choice. You aren't just saving yourself… You're helping save others' lives, too."

With that…. Tyson finally left, satisfied that he had made his mark on Aaron.

* * *

Hannah Snow had never felt such pain before in her entire life.

She was a normal girl who had done normal girl things, and had never gone through such extreme anxiety before in her life. The worst Hannah had ever had to worry about were whether or not she would pass that mathematics test, or if she could make it to the dance club with her private tutor in time.

To be this way… To feel so 'normal', to feel so out of place… It all got to her. She recognized that death in this situation was so likely for someone like her. She wanted to run and hide in her room again, as she did during her first day here… But after seeing so much death, running and hiding no longer felt like an option…

Well, no. There was one way she could run and hide… Forever.

"H-Hannah? Hannah, are you o-okay!?"

Hannah heard a familiar, stuttering voice stress over her… A voice she had briefly heard before she slipped out of consciousness.

"Harold, what the hell happened here!?"

"I… I had Nick go to the g-garden, I-I was going to f-find a-a mat or rug, b-but I just…"

"Holy shit…"

Another voice… A voice she still recognized. He spoke loudly and clearly in trials. But, each time, he failed them. Hannah couldn't imagine how painful this experience was for him. She had to wonder why he hadn't tried what she tried yet.

"Where the hell did she get the rope!?"

"P-Probably from the theater…"

"And _nobody_ spotted her?"

"I-I guess not…"

"Oi, Hannah. Look at me."

Hannah Snow opened her eyes. She saw Tyson and Harold; Tyson was looking down at her with a stern, disappointed frown, while Harold just seemed as nervous as usual.

"Why did you do that?" Tyson glared. "That was _selfish_ , Hannah. If you had died…!"

Selfish… Hannah had never thought she was being selfish. She just wanted to run and hide. She just didn't want to be here anymore.

"I…" She croaked, her neck hurting like hell. "... I just… I don't want to… Be here anymore…"

Tears welled up in her eyes. She remembered watching Patty burn. She remembered watching Julian die, just to her left, coughing up blood… She remembered all these terrible deaths and corpses and _blood_...

Hannah Snow just wanted out of this hell. She would have had that, had it not been for Harold.

"Hannah." Tyson bit his lip, but, his eyes seemed to brighten a bit, as though he'd gotten an idea. "... I understand how you feel. But why would you kill yourself without meaning?"

"... Huh..?" Hannah blinked, tears spilling. "What do you… M-Mean…?" She rubbed at her neck, wincing. Oh, god, that hurt. It burned so much…

"Barry sacrificed himself to save a life." Tyson reminded her. "Why can't you do the same?"

Harold's eyes widened. "... W-Wait…" He slowly figured out what Tyson was getting at. Hannah looked just as surprised, though, she hadn't connected the dots.

Tyson smiled, getting excited. "Listen, Hannah. Julian, Patty, Barry… They all died to save a life. Don't you want this nightmare to end knowing that you've done _the right thing?_ "

"The… The right thing…?" Hannah gulped. "I… I-I just wanted out… But… I-I didn't want to kill, and… I don't want to get killed…!"

"Then… Do you want a chance to be a hero? Like Barry?" Tyson's smile turned into a grin. "He didn't deserve what happened to him. But he let it happen, because he was like you. He wanted out, but he wouldn't kill. So he helped his friend survive."

"So… He…" Hannah sniffled, realizing what Tyson meant. "... I-If… I get executed, instead… S-Someone lives…?"

The room went silent. Tyson nodded. Harold stood still, surprised, unsure of what to say. Hannah simply stared…

She could leave this nightmare _and_ save a life in the process… She could leave in the most unselfish way possible…

"... O-Okay… What… Wh-what should I do…?"

* * *

Harold Slayne had very mixed feelings about what was going on. It was true that they had the perfect set up. A willing murderer and a willing frame. However… The way Hannah talked and acted now… It was as though Harold was just watching a zombie, devoid of life or will, nod along with Tyson's plans.

Harold understood that this was the best way to make sure someone survived. Hannah was going to take herself out of the picture, anyway. This way, almost everyone got what they wanted…

… It just felt wrong. Harold knew what it felt like to want to leave the world, but, he had gotten past that. Now, he was watching and doing nothing as someone in a similar situation was being encouraged to let themselves die…

Some part of it made Harold sick. But, the executioner didn't falter. He refused to turn his back on his friend. Especially when they were so close to saving another life!

Harold moved to the dining hall. Tyson had him keep guard there, waiting for Aaron and whoever the pharmacist brought with him. He had to make sure nothing went wrong, after all…

Tyson took the staircase, keeping guard, making sure nobody disturbed what was going to happen. The rest of the group were still upstairs, exploring the rooms and checking for exits.

Hannah, now wearing a scarf to cover her wound, drowsily checked the garden, study, and additional rooms. Nobody seemed to be hiding…

It was amazing. It was truly amazing, how three different people could have such different motivations, and yet, all of them agreed to do this one horrible thing.

Harold wanted to help as many of his friends as he could. He wanted to stay loyal to Tyson, who had showed him kindness, and help people survive. Even if that meant doing terrible things. Harold didn't mind killing (he was an executioner, after all), especially if it was for the greater good, or to protect someone he held dear.

Tyson, Harold thought, was a real militant, but he had his heart in the right place. He wanted to help as many people survive as possible, even if it meant going to such extremes. Tyson was starting to remind Harold of himself.

He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Shaking his head, Harold thought about Hannah. She just wanted to leave. The girl had gone through so much in her short time here, it wasn't a surprise that she tried something so drastic and sudden. And, now, she had been convinced, in her time of weakness, to do even worse things, under the guise of it all being 'heroic'. Granted, Harold certainly thought that Hannah getting executed to save a life was a lot better than her simply killing herself, but… Again, it didn't sit well with him.

Whatever. Harold wasn't the type to wax philosophically. He knew that, as awful as all of this was, it was the best thing to do. Aaron would live, at the price of one innocent and one girl who wanted to die anyway. This wasn't a bad trade.

But then, the doors to the dining hall opened, and Harold suddenly found himself questioning all of that.

"Ah, you didn't have to do this, friend Aaron!" Nick beamed, putting his hands on his sides. "Though I am rather hungry…"

"Ah, quit it, big guy. Not like I prepared a meal for ya yet. I'm just getting whatever you want." Aaron gave the swordsman a soft smirk as he walked past Harold, into the kitchen. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Meat! A steak!" Nick's eyes glistened as he sat down. "Are there any steaks, friend Aaron!? There must be!"

"Yep, found one!" Aaron called out, finding some meat in the fridge within the kitchen. "I'll have this done in a bit!"

Harold quickly walked into the kitchen, following Aaron.

"W-Weren't y-you supposed to, um…" The executioner whispered, eyes wide. He was holding his halberd to his chest.

"I did." Aaron began seasoning the meat. "You wanna know something? I'm a damn good cook."

"Uh…" Harold shook his head. "What? G-Good cook?"

Aaron just frowned, working on the meat quickly, preparing a pan. "Yeah. Cooking's just chemistry, right? Chemistry that you can eat, kinda. When I was a kid, my parents couldn't afford to get me a chemistry set, so I just fucked around in the kitchen a bunch. Got really good at it. But cooking wasn't my passion. Medicine was."

"..." Harold was still so confused. "Wh-why are you telling me this…?"

"..." Aaron looked to Harold, a dark look on his face. "Because Tyson was right. Nick can't survive in a place like this. And I don't have the heart to drag him around, trick him, and orchestrate murders so that we survive. You and Tyson might be able to. I can't."

He turned to the steak, placing it on the seasoned pan. "And, you know what? If my friend's going to die…"

He pulled something out of his lab coat pocket. It was a vial filled with a clear, liquid substance.

"He's going out on _my_ terms."

Harold finally understood. "... Y-You… You're… Letting him b-be at peace…" He whispered. The executioner hugged his halberd tighter. "..."

He watched Aaron cook the steak. He watched Aaron pour the substance in. He listened as Aaron called out to ask how Nick liked his steaks.

Harold had never held more respect for someone in his life. For his entire life, Harold had killed people for the sake of helping society, but he could never see the direct effects of his efforts. The only time Harold had ever seen something _good_ happen as a result of one of his executions was when he had killed his father in town square.

Because that was the day mother finally stopped crying.

But now, he watched as someone prepared an execution meant for an innocent. An execution that was not born of malice, but of love. A murder, planned not out of fear or desperation, but to save a life from the horrors ahead.

There was no room for Nick in Tyson's plans. As such, he would have died some other, awful way had Aaron left him here. But, instead, the pharmacist decided that things would end a different way.

He and Harold entered the dining hall. Aaron gave Nick the plate.

"Now wolf that down and tell me that isn't the best damn steak you've ever had." Aaron grinned, crossing his arms. "... I really hope you enjoy it, big guy."

"It will be wonderful, friend Aaron! Thank you!" Nick beamed. "You have done so much for me since the beginning of this twisted game…"

The swordsman dug in fast. He didn't bother with the utensils, much more used to eating barbarically, wolfing down the steak by holding the bone. He sputtered out compliments as he went, though, clearly enjoying the meal.

"..." Nick yawned, putting the clean bone down. "Phew… That… That was wonderful, friend…. Aaron…" He seemed to limp, just a bit. "... Mm… I feel fuzzy… How… How strange…!"

Aaron frowned. "... Yeah, that's weird… How are you feeling?"

"Urgh… Like… Oh, like I can't feel…" Nick muttered, tired. His whole body felt fuzzy and strange…

Aaron stood behind Nick, pulling out a gun that Harold had never seen before. The barrel was pressed against the back of Nick's head.

"Can… You feel anything, Nick?" Aaron grimaced. His arm was shaking. The gun was shaking.

"No…" Nick muttered closing his eyes. "Mm… I think… I think I'm going to sleep…"

"Alright… Alright, big guy…" Aaron took a deep breath. "... Good night."

 **BANG!**

* * *

Tsumiko rushed downstairs. She heard a gunshot. She _knew_ she heard a gunshot, dammit! She rushed down, darting into the first floor's hallway, moving as swiftly as she could-

And seeing a horrible, horrible sight.

Hannah was standing in front of the doors to the dining hall. She was shaking like a leaf. She had a gun in her hand. She was crying.

It was at that moment that this hell Tsumiko had found herself in had gotten a lot, _lot_ worse.

* * *

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

Everyone stood around the dead body of Nick Icarus, who had been shot through the head and killed. There was no sign that he had been eating anything; that had been quickly cleaned up by Aaron and Harold. There had been no sign that anyone other than Hannah could have done this; Tyson gave Hannah the gun and the girl played her part.

Now… The trap had been set. It was all up to the innocents to play their part.

"Nick…" Terry grimaced. "He never deserved th-this… Oh my god, I'm…. I-I'm gonna be sick…"

"..." Aaron bowed his head in silence. There was nothing he could say.

Hannah was crying, kept at the far end of the room by Harold and Rose. The gun had been taken away from her, and Tsumiko kept it in her hands, examining it…

There was no other way. No tricks, no gimmicks. Tsumiko was sure this gun had been fired. She was just as sure that the bullets this gun used matched Nick's fatal wound...

Hannah had been holding this gun. She shot Nick.

Being the skeptical type, Tsumiko did her best to figure out another explanation. However, as she rattled her mind for answers, she heard something…

"I-I did it… I-I'm so sorry…" Hannah sniffled, grimacing. "I… I-I just wanted to leave…" She hugged herself, seeming so scared...

Nobody responded.

Tyson, Aaron, and Harold wouldn't say anything, less they risk seeming suspicious.

Dru, Terry, and April could hardly speak. They were shocked enough that Hannah had a gun. Now, for her to admit that she had killed someone…

Rose closed her eyes, hanging her head, looking the other way.

Tsumiko simply bit her lip.

She had sworn to catch any killers… And, yet, almost as soon as she made that declaration, someone had killed and admitted to the murder, forcing her to make good on her promise.

"Well! That was fast!" A forgotten teddy bear appeared in the middle of the dining hall. "Upupup!~ Do we even need an investigation…? This is amazing! This game is being played so well!~"

"This isn't a game.." Terry sniffled, grimacing as he wiped his eyes. "This is hell…"

"Whatever!~" Monokuma grinned. "So! Everyone, move your butts to the ballroom! It's time for another class trial!~"

The hell that was this game continued.

* * *

Tsumiko was the first to step into the elevator when it arrived. The remaining eight students shuffled in. Everyone did their best to stay a fair distance away from Hannah, who continued crying softly to herself…

It had been done. There was no going back now.

Aaron stood alone, eyes closed, fists clenched. He kept telling himself that he gave his friend a peaceful end. In a way, he had been right. If he had done nothing, Nick would have been another sacrifice in Tyson's plans. He didn't know that, though. He kept thinking about how he could have saved his friend…

April was completely shocked. She had tried to not care, and yet, when she followed Tsumiko and found Hannah with that gun… It was too much. She kept close to Dru and Terry, hugging herself.

Dru hung her head, tears spilling. She was so tired of all of this. She couldn't keep her head straight anymore. She just wanted to lash out and be done with it.

Harold kept close to Tyson, hugging his halberd, looking down. He was about to watch a suicide by execution… And he still wasn't sure how he felt about it… He looked to Tyson, who had a determined look on his face, looking to the doors of the elevator. Despite all that was happening, Tyson still wanted to work towards what he felt was best…

Rose kept close to Tsumiko, doing her best not to cry. She had just wanted some control over everything that had happened. And yet, now, mere hours after they had to sacrifice Barry… Hannah was going to die…

Terry's wrist was covered in bruises. He didn't look anyone in the eye. He was too scared.

Tsumiko took one last glance around at the people in the elevator with her.

And she saw no hope.

 **-=TRIAL PREPARATION=-**

 **The Case of Nick Icarus**

 _Just a few hours after the third trial, a fourth occurs. A gunshot was heard throughout the manor, and several innocents found Hannah standing outside of the dining hall, holding the murder weapon, crying._

 _Is there really any room for discussion?_

 _What have you done?_

 _You made a man kill his friend. He has to live with that._

 _Is living like that… Really living at all?_

 **Jeremiah Core is still missing. He is confirmed innocent.**

 **-=TRIAL START=-**

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

The group of nine took their spots. Tsumiko had asked that she and Rose trade places, so that she did not need to see the name 'Lola Elsworth' engraved on her podium.

Three more podiums were empty. Barry and Nick's podiums were both burned, and Conchordia's podium remained, clean and empty.

To Tyson's right were Jeremiah Core (vacant), Harold Slayne, Dru West, Nyla Greens (survived), Arthur York (dead), Georgia York (dead), Barry Berry (dead), Patty Silvers (dead), and Rose Major.

To his left were Rye Titan (dead), Terry Holds, The Deserter (dead), Hannah Snow, April Nun, Julian Grendel (dead), Nick Icarus (dead), Aaron Wright, and Conchordia Flight (survived).

Directly across from him was Tsumiko Yamamoto.

There were only three people to his right, four people to his left, and one person directly across from him. Tyson remembered when they had double this amount of people…

"Well, this was kind of a waste." Monokuma sighed. "No investigation necessary… Just a complete steamroll… How boring…"

"If it's boring, why are you letting it happen!?" Rose glared, slamming her podium. "What's the point of all of this!? Why are you making us do this!?"

"..." Monokuma let out his signature laugh. "... Not for _entertainment_ , if that's what you think! Upupup… No. This is _necessary._ "

Necessary…? The word rang through Tyson's mind, but he couldn't make any sense of it…

"I-I'm so sorry, everyone…" Hannah spoke softly, tears in her eyes. "Please, just… Get it over with. I don't want to be here anymore…"

"H-Hannah…" Terry flinched, gripping his wrist. "Why…? We… We could have lived…! Th-there was still some hope…!"

"Face it… We're all fucked." Dru groaned, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Even _Hannah_ resorted to killing… We're so, so fucked…"

Terry grimaced, looking down. He just didn't want to believe it.

"... Let's just vote." Rose sighed. "There's no reason to discuss anything-"

"I disagree." Tsumiko spoke up. "We need to talk about this."

 _Class Trial ~ Resurrection Edition_

"... What?" Tyson responded quickly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry? Did… Did you not see _any_ of what just happened?"

"I saw it all." Tsumiko closed her eyes. "But I still have reasonable doubt that Hannah killed Nick. Even without an investigation."

"W-Without an investigation!?" Terry flinched. "You…. Y-You might be able to save Hannah!?"

Hannah was trembling. "Wh-what…? But… I… I killed…"

Tsumiko pulled her hat down, thinking aloud. "Hannah isn't the type to kill. She especially isn't the type to hide behind Nick and shoot him in the back of the head. Shouldn't we discuss other possibilities, first?"

"Other… Possibilities…?" Dru gripped her shoulder, trying to keep herself from lashing out. "The fuck… A-Are you talking about!? We saw her with that gun!"

"R-Right after w-we heard the gunshot!" Harold yelped, eyes wide.

"And she admitted to the crime herself." Tyson glared. "Are you going to question all of that on the basis of 'she isn't the type'? Nobody is the 'type', Tsumiko."

"I _know_ I'm not the only one with doubts." Tsumiko frowned. "... Terry? Do you think Hannah killed Nick?"

"..." Terry bit his lip. "... No. That's impossible. She wouldn't do that!"

"Wh-wh…" Hannah's eyes were wide, wet with tears. "H-Huh…?"

"Both myself and Terry still have doubts. I _demand_ we discuss this case before moving to a vote." Tsumiko glared back at Tyson. "No matter how much evidence there is… We can't jump to a conclusion so quickly."

So this was the determination of the Ultimate Sharpshooter… Tyson winced. This shouldn't be a tough fight, but… If she appeals to enough people's emotions, she might be able to win people over and get the crowd to vote someone other than Hannah.

Tyson couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Tsumiko ruin his plans!

 _Class Trial ~ Break_

"Nick Icarus was killed at around two o'clock in the afternoon." Tsumiko held onto her hat with one hand and kept her other at her side. "That much was made obvious by the gunshot."

"I-If we can determine who was w-with who…" Terry grimaced. "We can narrow our list of suspects!" He did his best to keep up, but he seemed scared out of his wits. He knew just as well as Tsumiko did that this was a gamble.

"I was with Terry the whole time after breakfast this morning." Tsumiko frowned. "We searched the second floor together."

"I was with Dru the whole time." Rose offered, but seemed skeptical of this whole conversation. "We found April in the lounge… And we heard the gunshot go off together."

"I can confirm that April was in the lounge. I was there with Harold beforehand." Tyson contributed. "Harold and I were together, in the study, when we heard the gunshot."

"That leaves Aaron and Hannah…" Tsumiko hummed, curious. "Aaron. You're usually with Nick. What happened?"

"..." The pharmacist grimaced. "I… I was in the garden when I heard the gunshot. I didn't know where he was, or what he was doing, I just… Fuck…"

"I'll reveal the truth…" Tsumiko whispered to herself before shouting: "That's wrong, Aaron!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"... What?" Aaron looked up at Tsumiko, his expression dark. "... You're gonna accuse me of murder _again?_..."

"Before running down to the first floor…" Tsumiko began to explain without addressing Aaron's question. "I went into the hallway that circled the garden and checked through the windows. You weren't there."

"That would have been after the gunshot." Dru sighed. "He obviously just ran out of the garden…"

"That _would_ make sense…" Tsumiko began to smirk. "If it weren't for the fact that I reached Hannah long before Aaron did."

"Excuse me?" Tyson grimaced, gripping onto his podium. "What the hell are you talking about!?"

"Aaron would have only needed to peek inside the lounge and the storage room to determine that the gunshot didn't come from both of those rooms." Tsumiko explained. "Afterwards, he would just have to round the hallway corner, and he would easily spot Hannah on the other side."

"But he took some time to join us…" Rose remembered. "But, are you sure you didn't see anyone in the garden?"

"Positive." Tsumiko smirked. "In fact, Terry can back me up, can't he? He looked, too."

"..." Terry looked to Tsumiko, biting his lip, nervous. He seemed to be a little confused…

Tsumiko shot him a look. Terry took a moment to consider before giving her a nod.

"... Right." Terry stood confidently, deciding to gamble with fate. "I checked, too. Nobody was there."

"..." Aaron grimaced. "... This is nonsense… You're trying to say… That I killed Nick? Why? And why would Hannah be claiming that _she_ killed Nick?"

"Doesn't matter." Tsumiko spoke quickly. "Don't try to deter us with motive. Your alibi is now shaky at best, and we need to determine whether or not you're lying. So… What were you _really_ doing when that gunshot went off?"

"A-And don't try to tell us that you searched the lounge thoroughly or something!" Terry pointed. "We… We won't take dumb excuses like those!"

Dear lord. They were actually turning this trial around. Tyson couldn't understand this. Why would Tsumiko and Terry have thought to check the garden from the second floor windows? Why wouldn't they have run towards the source of the gunshot instead?

Something about what they were saying was fishy. Tyson had to do something about their advancements…

He had to save Aaron Wright's life, in any way he could!

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up_

"Aaron. You claimed you were in the garden at the time you heard the gunshot go off…" Tsumiko pointed. "But Terry and I can testify that nobody was there!"

"Th-that means, for your story to make sense…" Terry bit his lip. "You had to have run out of the garden immediately, right?"

"..." Aaron was gripping his chest, his darkened expression only getting worse as it contorted with guilt. "..."

"A-Answer us!" Terry snapped. "What did you do when you h-heard the gunshot!?"

"Please… Please, I killed him…" Hannah mumbled, sniffling. "What are you doing…?"

"Hannah has no reason to lie…" Rose bit her lip. "But Aaron's testimony is shaky…"

"Aaron. Cooperate with us." Tsumiko glared. "If you really are innocent, your testimony will prove it so."

This was bad… If Aaron tried to lie further, Tsumiko and Terry could catch him, or at least cast doubt on whatever he said…

Tyson had to shut this down as quickly as he could!

"You're wrong!" He shouted. "Cut the shit, Tsumiko!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

Tyson slammed his fists on his podium, taking back control of this trial. "You told a lie, didn't you?" He glared, seething. "A lie to save Hannah!"

"..." Tsumiko simply glared. "... You don't know what you're doing."

"I sure as hell do know what I'm doing." Tyson smirked. "You never checked the garden. You ran to find Hannah as quickly as you could."

"T-Tyson!" Rose snapped. "You can't accuse her of lying without evidence!"

"That's true." Tsumiko kept a hand on her hat, glaring coldly at Tyson. "You don't have any evidence that I'm "lying". I really didn't see anyone in the garden. Terry didn't, either."

"That's the lie I can disprove." Tyson smirked. "If you checked the garden window, you should have seen someone… _Two_ someones, actually…"

"..." Tsumiko kept her glare up.

"Harold and I left the study soon after we heard the gunshot. That was when we saw Aaron leave." Tyson lied. "And that was also when we decided to check around the garden… Hence why we were late."

"I-If you looked through that window… Y-You should have seen _us_!" Harold bit his thumb nervously. "You… Y-You lied!"

"They lied just to put Aaron on the ropes?" Rose grimaced.

"W-Wait!" Terry flinched. "I-It isn't like that! We didn't-"

"Yes, we lied." Tsumiko admitted quickly, crossing her arms.

 _Class Trial ~ New Classmate of the Dead_

"WHAT!?" Terry fell backwards out of shock. "Ow!"

"But our lie was enough to shed doubt on this case." Tsumiko closed her eyes, contemplating her next words. "... I believe that Tyson and Harold are also lying."

"Seriously…?" April felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead. "But.. What? Huh?"

Dru's eyes widened. "Son of a _bitch_!" She glared. "I actually _did_ check the garden windows! It was just a minute after the gunshot…"

"Ah!" Rose was shocked. "Right! You stayed behind, didn't you!?"

Since when did _this_ happen!? Tyson was getting really pissed at all of this new information that seemed to exist _just_ to screw with his plans…

"And when I checked the windows, Tyson and Harold weren't there!" Dru glared. "What the hell is that all about!?"

"I didn't say we were there the whole time…" Tyson lied quickly, doing his best to cover his mistake. "We saw Aaron leave, stayed for a few moments to check for clues, but left quickly to check the chapel hall. After that, we went back in the garden. You might have seen that moment of time…"

"You would have only needed to peek inside the chapel hall to see whether or not something was wrong there." Tsumiko glared. "Why did you enter the hall?"

"Because I like to be thorough." Tyson smirked. "Unless _a certain someone_ , I don't rush to judgement…"

"Fuck you, that's way too convenient!" Dru grimaced. "You _must_ have lied!"

"Tsumiko is the _real_ liar here." Tyson frowned. "She admitted it herself."

"..." Rose was biting her lip, on the fence about this. What was all of this about? Two people were claiming to back up an alibi for Aaron, and yet, one person was claiming that those two were liars.

"A-Aaron has to be the culprit, right…?" Terry flinched. "Hannah wouldn't kill, and… It's possible that _he_ did!"

"I didn't kill Nick!" Aaron glared. "Tyson and Harold saw me! They can vouch for me!"

"And I don't believe them." Tsumiko frowned. "They could be lying to cover for you."

"I-Is nobody listening to me anymore…?" Hannah sighed, gloomy. "... I still killed him…"

This was an absolute mess… But Tyson was so close! He just had to convince everyone that he wasn't lying!

 _Class Trial ~ Scrum Debate_

HANNAH IS THE CULPRIT

 _Tyson, Harold, Hannah, Aaron._

AARON IS THE CULPRIT

 _Tsumiko, Terry, Dru, April._

"Hannah being the culprit doesn't make sense!" April glared, crossing her arms. "Look at her! She couldn't hurt a fucking fly, even if she wanted to!"

"A-Anyone could b-be a killer, when pushed t-to their limit…" Harold gulped. "We… W-We saw that b-before…"

"I saw the garden empty!" Dru snapped. "You're both fucking liars!"

"We checked the chapel hall during our search." Tyson smirked, keeping his cool. "Tsumiko is the liar."

"L-Liar or not, T-Tsumiko really did reach Hannah first…!" Terry bit his lip. "B-But Aaron should have been closer..!"

"Tyson and Harold saw me in a place other than the dining hall when the gunshot went off. That's all that matters." Aaron frowned, adjusting his glasses.

Tsumiko glared. "Hannah had no motive to kill Nick so suddenly. Aaron and Nick, being together most of the time, could have had a falling out…" She grasped at straws, doing her best to keep her argument afloat.

"JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Hannah screeched, pulling at her hair with red, teary eyes. She ended the debate.

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

"... I did it." Hannah sniffled. "I… I know you don't want that to be true, but… I-I killed Nick. I just wanted to get out of here, a-and… I snapped."

"H-Hannah…" Terry grimaced, clutching at his chest. "B-But…"

"What happens to me… D-Doesn't matter anymore." Hannah sniffled. "... It's either I die… O-Or someone else does, and… I don't want anyone else to die… I don't…"

"..." Tsumiko covered her face with her hat, not believing what she was hearing. She just… Couldn't believe this…

"..." Rose let out a soft sigh, lowering her head. "... If… If that's what you want, Hannah…"

"Fuck…" Dru sniffled, turning away. "... This isn't fair…"

"Upupupupu!~" Monokuma banged his gavel. "It's voting time, kids! Everyone, say your vote aloud when I call on you! When we hit majority- that's five people, by the way- I'll count that as your chosen culprit!"

"Lola Elsworth!"

"..." Tsumiko didn't say a word.

"..." Monokuma groaned. "Fiiiine… Tsumiko Yamamoto!"

"... Aaron Wright." She spoke clearly. "I… I'm going with my gut."

"Aaron Wright!"

"Hannah Snow." Aaron sighed, lowering his head. "... I'm sorry."

"April Nun!"

April had her head in her hands. "... Hannah Snow…" She mumbled, her spirit crushed.

"Hannah Snow!"

Hannah sniffled, but smiled. "... I… I-I wasn't that bad in the end, w-was I…?" She whispered to herself. She had saved a life… "... Hannah Snow."

"Terry Holds!"

"..." Terry bit his lip. "... Aaron Wright. I-I'm sorry, but, I just can't believe that Hannah would kill!"

"Tyson Jin!"

"Hannah." Tyson spoke quickly, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. "It's over."

"Harold Slayne!"

"..." Harold stared at Hannah.

Suicide.

He was helping someone commit suicide.

Was that a bad thing, or… Was it an execution done out of kindness, like what Aaron had done to Nick?

Taking a deep breath, Harold spoke. "... Hannah."

"That's majority, folks!~" Monokuma beamed, slamming his little judge's hammer down. "Woo! What a waste of time! Thanks for wasting literally _everyone's_ time, Tsumiko and Terry!"

"F-Fuck you…" Terry grit his teeth, watching to his left as Hannah stepped off her podium.

"It's okay…" The dancer smiled. "... I wanted this."

 **BANG!**

Screaming. Terror.

Monokuma laughed. "I would've made her go through a door like Barry and act all cool and have some last words… But I got pissed, so, no cool exit for Hannah Snow!~ Upupup!~" The teddy bear put his revolver away, clapping as people screamed. "Wooooo!~ Despair!~"

"Sh-she's dead…" Terry clutched his chest. "She's fucking dead…!"

"G-Get a fucking hold of yourself! We've seen so many people die already, WHY AREN'T YOU USED TO IT ALREADY!?" Dru screeched, crying, clearly not taking her own advice.

The elevator doors opened.

Tyson entered almost immediately, wanting to get away from all the screaming. Aaron quickly followed, only for Tsumiko to tail him. Harold followed, scared for what might happen. This was all going to hell.

* * *

Inside the elevator, an awkward silence rushed over the four who had ran away from Hannah's corpse and retreated into the machine.

That trial had been a fast-paced hell. Tsumiko and Terry's lies had nearly turned the whole case around, though Tyson had stopped them with a lie of his own… It was clear that they were all not on very good terms.

"..." Tsumiko glared. "... I _know_ you three lied and got Hannah killed."

Tyson sighed. "Look, I don't know what we did to you, Tsumiko, but-"

"You killed Barry." Tsumiko hissed, clenching her fists. "We can start with that. I know Terry wouldn't help Conchordia with a murder plan. Nick was too big to be in one of those cloaks. It had to be one of you three."

"Are you saying you don't think Arthur and Georgia were in that black cloak in dress?" Tyson wondered with a small smirk. "... Isn't that just another one of your assumptions?"

"It's not an assumption. It just makes the most sense. How else could Conchordia have killed them!?" Tsumiko bit her thumb, still glaring. "I'm not an idiot. I know something's wrong, and one of you-"

"Stop." Aaron sighed. "Just stop." The pharmacist crossed his arms, looking to the sharpshooter. "... Get some rest. You're not in your right mind. We've all had a very, _very_ rough day. You especially. You need to keep yourself under control."

"..." Tsumiko just glared. "But… I know that-"

"You don't _know_ anything." Aaron shook his head. "Look. Even if one of us did something wrong, you're not going to convince the rest of the group that without a proper argument. Dru, Terry, April, and Rose might all be dumbasses, but they're fairly _reasonable_ dumbasses. They won't accept bullshit. You need to take a break."

Tsumiko was about to object when the elevator doors opened. She let out a sigh, lowering her head.

Maybe Aaron was right. She didn't feel in the right mind. All of this pain and this psychological torture without a moment's respite was getting to her. It was possible that she had just been making assumptions… But, even still, what Tyson and Harold had said in the trial bothered her, and Hannah being the culprit who killed Nick made little to no sense. She just wasn't the type.

She looked up, seeing that the three boys were gone.

… Something was wrong. But Tsumiko needed to take some time to calm down and figure out a new plan of attack. She exited the elevator, leaving for her room.

* * *

Aaron Wright stood alone in the foyer. It was the middle of the night, and he had decided to take this chance to leave.

He put his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, staring the doors down. They were his last hurdle. If he could leave through those doors, he would have finally 'survived'. He would get to live to see another day.

… But was it worth it?

Nick might have been a bit one-note and annoying at times, but he never deserved death. Nick was his loyal friend. They had stuck together since the beginning of this mess, and Aaron had just… Killed him. Aaron ended his life, and for what? To live? Was living worth it when he was a damn murderer?

In a way, it was a mercy killing. That was how he convinced himself to do it. He made sure that Nick didn't feel anything before ending it as quickly as possible. That was the best way to do it, wasn't it? That was…

Goddammit! There was no 'best way'. Aaron had killed an innocent man. Even if they felt pressured to, no sane person would agree to kill another! Aaron wasn't sane. He wasn't right in the _head._ He couldn't be! He had killed, he was a murderer, and now, he was standing before a set of doors that would allow him to escape and leave seven others to face this hell without him.

He was a monster, wasn't he?

…

But if he was a monster, why didn't he feel like one? Why, even now, did he feel as though… What he did, while horrible, could somehow be forgiven? Who could forgive him? Why would anyone forgive him?

… Did… Nick forgive him?

Aaron sighed. Enough of this. He pushed the doors apart, entering the metallic hallway, forcing himself to press on.

For him, this nightmare was over.

* * *

 **REMAINING PLAYERS: 8**

 **SURVIVED PLAYERS: 3**

 **CHAPTER 4: The Comparison of Lives: END**


	6. Chapter 5: Savior of Nothing

**Author's Note: As with almost every personal project, life got in the way. I suffered from some pretty bad anxiety over these past couple of months, and had to make some pretty difficult choices all while dealing with college at an engineering school. So I apologize for the long wait; I hope to be able to update with the final Arc next Friday, but no promises, especially since I'm not yet out of the woods with my health and such yet. Hope everyone has a fantastic March.**

 **Thank you for reading. This has been a lot of fun, I have to say! I loved writing a lot of these characters, and I'd like to write many of them again. After Arc 6, I may use my profile to talk extensively about this fic and who my favorites were and why, alongside ideas I had and such. Let me know if you'd like to see that.**

* * *

For the first time in her entire life, Tsumiko Yamamoto had missed a shot.

The sharpshooter stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the foyer. She had seen Aaron Wright walk through those doors; he had gotten away with his crime. He had killed Nick, framed Hannah, and gotten the help of Tyson and Harold to do it. She had been watching him. She could have done something; she could have shot him, punished him, called him out… But she did no such thing. She couldn't bring herself to shoot him.

Putting the gun on safety and securing it in her pocket, Tsumiko looked to the bedroom hall, surveying the area. She now knew that two of the seven remaining people wanted murderers to go free… And they weren't stopping at anything to get their way. Tyson had lied and lied during that trial, and Tsumiko believed that he had done the same in previous trials. That was why he always did his best to take charge and steer the conversation one way or another…

Dammit all! How could she not have seen this coming? Tyson was a traitor amongst them, and he had Harold wrapped around his finger. Tsumiko needed to do something about this before they killed more people. Biting her thumb, the sharpshooter looked from door to door, thinking about who she could trust…

April Nun gave up easily. She was prone to outbursts and her emotions were irrational; one minute, she could be leading a 'new detective squad', and the next, she could be depressed and waiting to die. Tsumiko didn't think she was very trustworthy at all; if anything, April could also be under Tyson's influence by now. She wouldn't put it past the tactician to have gotten more allies than just Harold and Aaron.

Dru West was much of the same. She was becoming vicious towards everyone here, and that mood change had started after she had learned that Georgia might have been plotting murder- on her, no less- before her demise. The cartographer also spoke little of her past and her talent, and seemed to be a floater in this game of life and death.

Rose Major seemed useful at first, but had quickly become unreliable as trials occurred and this game of life and death ramped up in intensity. She had even gone from being Tsumiko's friend to suspecting her of _murder._ But for as many mistakes as Rose made, she seemed apologetic, and wanted to do better. Tsumiko still held some faith that Rose might end up doing some good for the group…

Finally, there was Terry Holds. He was a bit of a wild card. Tsumiko had generally assumed he was unreliable and strange, but, he had turned out to be surprisingly useful. Despite having some difficulty keeping his spirits up at times, the boy was able to be clever when it counted, lying for Tsumiko and helping her get the closest anyone had gotten to foiling Tyson's plans. Ultimately, if it weren't for Terry, Tsumiko might not have been able to expose Tyson and Harold as liars. She definitely trusted him, despite his shortcomings.

Tsumiko knocked on Terry's door first, stepping back and glancing to her left and to her right, ensuring nobody was around. She had to take the people she trusted, retreat to a safe place, and come up with a plan. Tyson was the Ultimate Tactician; it was unlikely that he didn't have a plan for after he was exposed as a liar. They needed to keep together, keep safe, and make sure the fiend didn't pull any tricks.

The door was opened. Terry quickly opened his bedroom door, holding a kitchen knife in his free hand as he looked to Tsumiko. "T-Tsumiko! Oh, thank god, it's just you…" He put the knife in his pocket, shuddering. "What's going on? It's midnight…"

"Aaron was the killer. Tyson and Harold lied." Tsumiko quickly relayed what she learned, frowning. "They've been rigging the trials to make _sure_ we failed, Terry. We can't trust them."

Terry's eyes widened. Some part of him had been prepared for this revelation, given how much he believed in Hannah and how Tyson and Harold defended Aaron. However, Terry couldn't help but be shocked. "So… H-Harold, too? They… They sacrificed everyone…?" The animal photographer grimaced, scared.

"The Deserter. Patty." Tsumiko listed off. "Arthur. Georgia. _Barry._ Nick. Hannah. They've sacrificed seven people to save three. Hell, they might have even helped _Jeremiah_ for all we know, Terry! We need to do something about them, _tonight._ "

Terry grimaced, holding his chest. He was beginning to put some faith in Harold. It was stupid of him, wasn't it? Harold was so obviously psychotic, and yet, Terry had wanted so badly to see some humanity in the boy. In the end, the executioner was exactly as Terry should have expected him to be: evil. Wrong. Sacrificing so many lives when they could have worked to try and save everyone.

But even still, he couldn't quite bring himself to make a conclusion on what was happening. Not just yet.

"... Right…. R-Right…" Terry took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, preparing himself. He had not gotten much sleep, but the adrenaline he felt rushing through his veins at that moment had helped him to ignore just how long of a day he was having. The day had to continue. He had to keep at it if he wanted to avenge his fallen friends. "Are we going to tell anyone else?"

"Rose." Tsumiko had already decided. "We'll let April and Dru stay in their rooms; we can't trust them. They could be in on this, too."

Tsumiko ran the numbers in her head quickly.

 **Seven people were remaining. If Tyson planned to continue his "sacrifice people for murderers" plan, he could only allow a maximum of three people to live at this stage of the game. He and Harold were likely guaranteed survivors, and that left one more person who could survive. He could use that open survivor slot to tempt the more weak-willed players into joining his cause.**

"..." She nodded to herself, reaffirming her suspicion. "We need to leave them be while we come up with a plan."

Terry was clearly nervous, gulping, but seemed to understand. "Alright… Um, should I bring anything…?" He looked back into his room, remembering that it was essentially empty, with no items of use within it. "... Actually, never mind. I'm coming out." He flicked his wrist, frowning.

"Just watch my back while I talk to Rose." Tsumiko walked to Rose's door. "Once she's with us, we need to check for new rooms."

"We can go to the chapel? It might be unlocked…" Terry suggested, pulling out his knife as he glanced between the other closed doors nervously. He wasn't sure how he was going to watch Tsumiko's back; after all, if Harold went after them with malicious intent, the animal photographer was _pretty_ sure he wouldn't be able to beat the executioner in a fight.

"Whatever." Tsumiko shrugged, figuring that was as good a place as any. She knocked on Rose's door, taking a step back, and only waiting for a couple of seconds before seeing the door open.

Rose had never looked more weak. She was tired, rubbing at her sleepy eyes, and her hair was a mess. The up-and-coming judge looked at Tsumiko with a deep frown, letting out a small sigh.

"Please tell me you have good news, somehow…" The girl mumbled, crossing her arms.

"Aaron left. He was the killer. Tyson and Harold were lying the whole time." Tsumiko shook her head. "We need to go and come up with a plan. I'm bringing Terry with us. Are you in?"

"Lola- uh… Tsumiko…" Rose's eyes widened. She had suspected that Tyson and Harold may have lied, but, even so, to have the truth smacking her in the face like this… "So… _They_ were the ones who have been making everything _hell…_ "

"That's very likely." Tsumiko was quick to answer. "We need to do something about them."

"... Agreed." Rose balled her hands up into fists, nodding. "I… I will _never_ forgive them, those bastards! They killed so many people and _got away with it!_ "

"We won't let them do it again." Tsumiko frowned. "So, are you coming?"

"Damn right I am!" Rose hissed. "They're the ones who have been doing this to us… Making us go through trial after trial, and leading us on the whole time! I'm going to make them pay!"

It was validating, Rose felt, for Tyson to have been the one fooling her all along. She had suspected him, ever since what he said at the end of the first trial… But perhaps the fact that she didn't act on her suspicion hurt more than it helped. She had the power all along to call out Tyson and make everyone suspect him, but, instead, she was too focused on biting back against Aaron or anyone who questioned her.

Rose was aware she had a problem with pride. But this time, that problem was going to _help_ her. She was going to get revenge on Tyson and make sure this game ended _her_ way!

Tsumiko wasn't sure whether to welcome this passion or attempt to cool it down… But, knowing how tense this situation was already, Tsumiko didn't want to get on Rose's nerves by asking her to cool it. "Right. Let's go."

She led Rose out of her room, and the two met Terry in the bedroom hall.

"Nobody's come out…" The animal photographer flicked his wrist. "L-Let's make a run for the chapel. We can talk there!"

"Why don't we just try and detain Tyson and Harold now? Tsumiko has a gun." Rose pointed out with a frown.

"If you think they'll come out of their rooms, give it a shot. But I highly doubt they will… And even if they did, Harold is an executioner and Tyson probably has combat training. It wouldn't be that easy to 'detain' them." Tsumiko shook her head. "It's much safer to go out, find a safe place, and discuss a plan."

"Fine, but I already know what I _want_ our plan to be." Rose glared towards Tyson's door. "Let's go."

The three went down the stairs, moving towards the chapel.

* * *

Tyson moved out of his room with two daggers in his hands. He checked the doors, thankful to see that Tsumiko seemed to be out. Rose and Terry as well… Tyson would have to make sure not to run into them. The tactician was sure that Aaron was gone by now, and once they realize Aaron is gone…

The tactician cursed himself for the tenth time that night. Lying for Aaron really put him at a disadvantage. If only Tsumiko didn't go as far as to lie! He never expected her to pull such an insane move. Now, instead of getting to sit back and trick the group, Tyson was in the spotlight, and he had to make some moves as quickly as he could.

He knocked four times on Harold's door before kicking at it. The executioner's door opened soon after that.

Harold Slayne kept both hands on his halberd, nodding to Tyson. "S-So… It's almost over, huh…?" The boy gulped, moving out into the hall with Tyson. "Where are we going?"

"Let's explore the new rooms." Tyson determined. "If there's something useful in there, I might be able to make some better plans…"

"N-No. We need to talk to Jeremiah, f-first…" The executioner objected with a small frown. "When was the last time you gave him food?"

"Huh?" Tyson shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "What do you care? I gave him food yesterday afternoon… I mean, technically I promised him I'd get him something else, but we don't have time-"

"N-No. We need to go talk to him." Harold frowned. "I… I don't f-feel good about this anymore, Tyson. N-Not after Hannah…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "... So… W-We need to make up for it. At least a-a little bit."

Ah, so that's what this was all about. Tyson had noticed that Harold was awfully silent while Hannah was offering to be executed for Aaron… And when it came time to vote Hannah, the executioner didn't seem happy about it. He didn't suspect that it would come to this, however. "So… You don't feel good about saving the lives of the people here?" Tyson frowned. "We still need to save Jeremiah, and one more… You can't abandon this yet."

"I'm not a-abandoning…." Harold shook his head. "I… I know that, if I leave this be now, w-we can't save more people… So… I'm with you. B-But, we need to at least… B-Be humane about it. Like one of my executions. I-I do things swiftly, and… W-With little pain. We need to be like that."

"I don't think we have the time to make Jeremiah a meal, though." Tyson rolled his eyes. "Three people are already out, and I'm sure Aaron's left. If they find he's missing…"

"It doesn't m-matter…" Harold spoke with some conviction. "I-I won't work together with you unless y-you treat your victims w-with respect… And Jeremiah, e-even if we're saving him, is a victim. A-Aaron treated Nick with respect, made it feel painless, and… W-We need to do the same."

 _Goddammit._ Tyson found this new side of Harold to be very annoying. They were so close to the end of this game, and Harold wanted to go make some asshole a meal? While they had three people walking around, possibly aware that they were killers? The tactician felt like telling Harold off, but, he needed the executioner. Without Harold, Tyson's chances of succeeding in his plans plummeted… He needed at least _one_ ally.

" _Fine._ " Tyson groaned, putting a hand to his forehead. "We'll go check on Jeremiah. But after we get him his food, we're going to check the new rooms and move along with my plan. Got it?"

"U-Understood." Harold smiled. "I-I knew you were still a good person, T-Tyson…"

"I never changed." Tyson lied, moving past Harold. "Now let's go. The more time we waste, the more likely we are to fail."

Harold beamed, following his friend.

That last case had really affected the executioner. What they had to do to save Aaron disgusted him in some way, but, he had learned a lot. And he wanted to apply what he learned to this situation, so that, perhaps, things could become just a little bit better.

A murder done out of kindness, and victims treated as equals… An execution with honor…

These new ideals filled Harold with a sense of confidence he had never felt before. He was sure, now, that everything would end just fine!

* * *

Tsumiko, Rose, and Terry entered the chapel. The door was unlocked now, allowing them to enter the creepiest room yet.

With stone brick walls and several stain glass windows depicting religious figures that none of them recognized, the chapel was a place that felt so foreign yet so hauntingly familiar. Each of them had been in chapels or places of worship before, yet none of them had been in one that looked as dark and dreary as this. There were very few lights, with the only brightness coming from lit candles on the altar near the back of the room.

"Do either of you recognize these people?" Tsumiko wondered, looking at the odd windows. "They don't seem familiar to me."

"I'm… Well, I _used_ to be Catholic, and I don't remember any of _these_ saints." Terry shook his head, noticing that most of them wore strange, colorful attires. "Maybe it's all fictional?"

Rose bit her lip. "This place is creepy as hell, and with probably fake religious idols… Great. So, what's the point of this place?" She shook her head, looking to Tsumiko and Terry. "Why is this chapel in some… Underground murder facility?"

"Perhaps it was meant to lower morale." Tsumiko guessed. "They wanted this place to make us want to find our own salvation through murder…"

"Or the people that made this place are all fucked in the head." Terry suggested bluntly, rubbing his arm.

"That too." Tsumiko agreed with a small sigh. "Well, whatever its purpose… We should search. There might be something useful in here."

"Like a gun? I'd like a gun." Rose quipped with a small grin, just thinking of all of the things she wanted to do to Tyson with a gun. She could avenge all the people he killed! And perhaps she would get to go free, too. She could shoot Tyson, they could all vote for Harold, and she would go free.

"I vote for not giving Rose a gun. Ever." Terry grimaced, worried now that he saw that Rose seemed to be staring at a wall, daydreaming about something. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm cool. I just want a gun to defend myself." Rose shrugged. "If those two are the maniacs I think they are, I won't be able to keep myself alive with just a knife."

"Hopefully it won't come down to that." Tsumiko let out a small 'tsk' as she checked the chapel's windows. "Now can you two get to searching? Maybe we'll get lucky and find something that can actually help us against those two."

"Hmm…" Terry looked to the altar at the end of the room. It was lit with several candles, and had some religious idols that he didn't recognize. It creeped him out, but, it seemed to be the most important thing in this room. Maybe something was there?

He moved to the altar, beginning his search.

* * *

Tyson and Harold moved down into the single-cell basement, where Jeremiah was, surprisingly, awake and waiting.

"Another late night murder?" The man glared. He had some clear facial hair growing out by now, as he wasn't able to groom himself for some time. However, he seemed to be doing well, standing up straight in his cell and keeping a defiant look about him. The mechanic's will was not easily broken, Tyson noted.

"More like a late night feast, apparently." Tyson sighed. "Do you want a meal, Jeremiah? I made a promise, after all."

"It won't be poisoned! We promise!" Harold smiled, giving Jeremiah very little reason for reassurance.

"Riiiiight…" Jeremiah coughed, unsure of this. He figured that they could very easily poison his meal and kill him… But, then again, if they wanted Jeremiah dead, his life was in their hands right now. He was the one stuck in a cell, and they were the ones with access to weapons and plenty of ways to get him out of the picture. If they wanted him dead, he was going to die; no way around that.

So, with that logic, he figured he might as well get the meal. "Ribs." Jeremiah spoke out his decision. "Lots of meat on the bone. No need for sauce, I just need a taste of something cooked."

"..." Tyson briefly considered this. "I don't think so. You could use the bones for something."

"Like what?" Jeremiah scoffed. "I could bang 'em against the cell bars, not much else."

"Let's just cook him the ribs, Tyson." Harold frowned, unhappy. "We owe him that much!"

The tactician really didn't want to; however, given how short-fused Harold was acting right now, he didn't have much of a choice. "Alright, alright- _fine._ I'll cook the ribs, but in the meantime, Harold, _you_ need to check the new rooms. We can't waste much time."

"Alright!~" Harold beamed, pleased. "We'll meet back in the storage room!"

With that, Tyson and Harold left the room without another word to Jeremiah. The mechanic watched the two, thinking to himself. Why was Tyson worried about some old rib bones? It was true, that would give him something solid to work with, and the more tools a mechanic is given, the more useful they can make themselves…

Walking up to his cell door, he reached around to feel the lock, getting an idea. A crazy idea; one that he was sure would never work in anything other than a fictional escape drama… And, yet, it might be his only shot at freedom…

* * *

Harold reached the second floor, heading into the last hallway from the stairwell. This hallway was dark and black, a clear difference from the blank whiteness that Harold and his fellow captives had gotten so used to. However, it was hard to see in this hallway, with nothing but black, and the boy had to cautiously move to the end, noticing the only thing that stood apart from the rest of the hall; a dark gray door at the end.

Putting his hand on the handle, Harold took a deep breath, opening the door and readying his halberd, just in case there was something dangerous on the other side. But when he stepped inside, Harold stopped, eyes widening.

The room was certainly dangerous… But in the most beautiful way.

There was an electric chair with several wires, pressure pads, and switches that could be connected to it. There were several tables to tie victims to, complete with plenty of cutting tools on each table, from the smallest scalpel to an over-sized scythe. The room was complete with several unset traps, including bear traps, nets, thin wires and contraptions that could be triggered to fire darts with said wires.

It was like heaven to Harold. All of these tools of justice and execution surrounded him, reminding him of his calling. Enamored by this wonderful room, he checked it thoroughly, delighted by every small detail.

He would have to report back to Tyson soon, but, for now, he kept close to the things that gave him comfort. That electric chair in particular captured his interest, as it appeared that it could be activated in almost any way, with plenty of electronic tools and switches.

Perhaps… They could put it to use?

* * *

Terry was nearly finished with his slow, deliberate search of the altar. He had checked beneath it, on its sides, at its front, and had even tried moving it somewhat to check if there was anything under its supports. There seemed to be nothing here, and yet, something bugged Terry about this altar. It was so large, and it was the keystone structure in the room. It captured a person's attention from any angle, and it was clear that whoever designed the room wanted people to be drawn to this altar…

So why was there literally nothing of interest on it or around it? Frustrated with this, the animal photographer decided to take all of the candles off of the altar, taking the sheet that covered it and pulling it away, hoping to find something underneath; and with his last gambit, Terry succeeded, finding a small file on top of the altar.

"Tsumiko, Rose! I found something!" Terry grinned, proud of himself. He picked up the file, opening it hastily and checking its contents, surprised to find that there were only two pieces of paper inside.

Tsumiko, thankful she didn't have to check all of the pews all over again, went to Terry, checking over his shoulder to read what was in the file. She was surprised to see a list of names alongside a page that appeared to be a letter of some sort.

"Those are our names…" Tsumiko noticed. Yes, that list of names included all of the participants in this game of life and death, although three names seemed different from the others. The three names at the bottom were written in pen rather than typed, as though they had been hastily added...

 **Julian Grendel**

 **Rye Titan**

 **Patty Silvers**

"Oh my god… Wait…" Terry's eyes widened. "Y-You don't think, maybe they had something to do with all of this? Maybe they weren't meant to be here, but they were put in for some reason, or…"

"Calm down." Tsumiko frowned. "It doesn't matter; they're all dead, anyway. Even if one of them was involved, we can't get any information out of them."

Terry wasn't satisfied, though. "Oh, really?... Did anyone check Julian's pulse?"

The room went silent. Rose, who had been listening from one of the pews, stood up at once, shocked by what Terry had asked. The animal photographer put the file down, biting his lip, looking from Tsumiko to Rose, who both seemed shocked.

"Nobody did." He grimaced. "Nobody checked his pulse."

"Wait, wait… D-Didn't he cough up blood? He, uh…" Rose stopped, shaking her head. "Wait, this is ridiculous! Are you trying to get us to believe Julian… Faked his death?"

"That's the twist!" Terry nodded, sure of himself. "I-It has to be! There's always a twist in mysteries, right? There's always some kind of… Trick, or something, that the villain uses. This has to be it! Julian never died!"

"Then how do you explain Rye and Patty?" Tsumiko glared, not buying this theory just yet. "We found them both dead."

"Do you remember _anything_ about Rye from when she was alive?" Terry wondered. "They could have just took someone else's body and dressed them up as Rye! We wouldn't have been able to tell the difference! And with Patty, they could've just… Used some special effects or something, and replaced her with a burning corpse!"

"Why would they need three people to enter the game and fake their deaths?" Rose pressured. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"Julian and Rye were the first murder! And so soon!" Terry grimaced. "It… It was done to drive us to the edge! To make us have to witness the first trial! Patty kept out of the trial so that everyone who was _actually_ participating in the game had to witness it… And that's how we ended up here!"

Terry's theory held some water. If Julian, Rye, and Patty were working together to ensure the game went smoothly, it could have been that Julian and Rye worked together to fake a murder and an execution, and Patty ensured that everyone who was not 'in on it' had to witness the trial and execution…. And, yet…

"Wait." Tsumiko spoke carefully, considering her words, trying to think through her line of logic. "So, why have the 'one person stays out' rule in the trial in the first place? Why was that necessary?"

"I'm not sure yet." Terry admitted, shaking his head. "Maybe… They wanted to give us this small hope that we could avoid a trial, only to snatch it away with Patty hiding all the time…?"

Tsumiko wanted to object further, but Rose spoke up with a start.

"AHA! The articles! Julian and Rye's articles!" She grinned, remembering the articles Barry found. "Those were planted in the study to make us feel sympathy for them! But they were masterminds all along! That has to be it!"

"That makes sense!" Terry's eyes widened. "Oh my god… Maybe they were planning to stab Patty in the back, and there wasn't a trick… She really died, and those two were the _real_ masterminds…"

"Or… And let's consider this…" Tsumiko frowned, starting to get annoyed. "They're both _dead._ Just because their names were written in pen instead of typed doesn't mean they're masterminds or something. This could be a trick."

"It's the best lead we have." Rose glared. "And it's the one that makes the most sense- nobody checked to see if Julian was dead for sure!"

"And nobody checked Barry, or Hannah." Tsumiko reminded. "Are they in on this, too? Do you realize how _paranoid_ you sound?" The sharpshooter glared back, not having time for this. Terry and Rose's conspiracy theory was getting them nowhere; even if they knew who the masterminds were, it wouldn't matter, as they had a bigger threat to fight against. These two were forgetting that.

"Fuck you! At least I know what's going on here now!" Rose spat, crossing her arms. "You wanted to find a chance against Tyson and Harold? There it is! We'll find Julian and Rye and kill them! Then, the game's over!"

"You're crazy." Tsumiko rolled her eyes. "How do you expect to 'find' them, then? Are they just wandering the halls, with giant 'kill me' signs on their backs?"

"Uh…" Terry tried to speak up, getting increasingly concerned by how heated this argument was getting. He wasn't sure if he wanted to put much more merit in his 'faked deaths' theory if this was where it was getting them.

"If they faked their deaths, they left using some sort of method. If I can find out where they escaped to, I can find them and kill them." Rose walked to the altar, conviction in her words and her hand outstretched. "Give me your gun." She commanded with a glare.

"What? No!" Tsumiko glared back, keeping her hands on her revolver. "I'm not trusting you with this! You're not going to accomplish anything, Rose!"

"I'm going to accomplish a lot more than what _you're_ doing." Rose's words were laced with venom as she walked closer to Tsumiko. "Give me the gun." She commanded once more, not letting up.

"No." Tsumiko shook her head, refusing Rose again. "Stay back. I'm _not_ giving you this fucking gun."

"Then what are you going to do? Shoot me?" Rose smirked. She put her hand on Tsumiko's revolver, and the girl found herself straddled with a sudden, difficult choice…

"Rose, don't!" Terry grimaced. "T-Tsumiko can handle a gun better than you can! It's safer with her!"

Rose, uncaring, finally pulled, snatching the gun out of the sharpshooter's hands; and Tsumiko did nothing, unwilling to take action. She couldn't shoot Rose. She could hardly even fight back or push back against the judge, as that taunt had struck deep…

 _What are you going to do? Shoot me?_

Clearly not. When it mattered, Tsumiko's skill couldn't help anyone. She couldn't shoot anyone.

"It doesn't matter how well she handles a gun if she can't fire it." Rose spoke duly, walking away from the altar, gun in hand. "Don't worry. If I see Tyson or Harold, I'll shoot them too. And if there's a class trial, we can vote the other one. Problem solved."

"Problem solved!?" Terry shouted. "That would leave Tsumiko, Dru, April and I here! You would be leaving us to die!"

"Don't worry. That's just a last resort, for if I can't find Julian and Rye." The judge smirked, happy to have all the power back in her hands. "Just stay here and keep safe; I'll be back."

With that, Rose Major left, leaving Tsumiko and Terry behind in the chapel.

"... Oh my god…." Terry grimaced, shaking his head, moving to Tsumiko. "Tsumiko! I-I'm so sorry, I, I didn't mean for that to happen, I was just…"

"S-Save it…" Tsumiko groaned, upset with herself. She moved back, behind the altar, picking up the file again. "We… We have to check the other paper."

Terry, still worried, wanted to at least ask if Tsumiko was okay; but given how upset she looked, the answer was already clear. The animal photographer gulped, nodding and moving to read the letter with Tsumiko.

* * *

Tyson had given Jeremiah the plate of ribs, leaving the room without a word. Jeremiah let out a sarcastic 'nice to see you too' as the tactician left.

Looking down at his meal in the darkness of the cell, Jeremiah got to work; he ripped the meat straight off the bones, eating some of it to get his energy back he banged the bone against the sink, breaking it in half. He checked the parts of bone, and thanks to Tyson wanting to cook it as quickly as possible, the bone was still hard and sharp. Looking to the lock, the mechanic bit his lip…

He had never tried to pick a lock before. And he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to do with it with a small, sharp rib bone.

But he had plenty of chances, and it was either this, or he could stay in the cell and leave his fate up to the maniacs upstairs. Deciding to take his life in his own hands, Jeremiah began his work.

After Tyson climbed out of the trapdoor, he closed it and locked it with his key, keeping it secure. He knew that the others may began walking the halls at any time, and he didn't want anyone to find and free Jeremiah. The mechanic was still a vital part of the boy's plan.

He watched as Harold entered the room, carefully closing the door behind him. The executioner turned to Tyson, grimacing, seeming somewhat scared.

"R-Rose is patrolling…. Sh-she has a gun, and… I don't think she wanted to, um, m-make friends…" Harold rubbed his arm, worried.

"Oh, fucking great." Tyson grumbled, standing up. "Then we don't have much time. We need to kill someone before she decides to kill _us._ "

"B-But, how will we get them to vote for someone other than us…?" Harold grimaced. "We don't have a gun, so we can't frame Rose… Can we?"

"We can't. But I might have an idea." Tyson admitted, racking his mind for answers. "First, what did you find?"

"I-It was a big room filled with all sorts of knives and tables and… Lots of traps. Even an electric chair!" Harold was grinning now, speaking in an excited, yet hushed voice, so that Rose was not alerted to their presence in the storage room. "It was like paradise!"

Internally, Tyson expressed plenty of concern for Harold's mental well-being. Externally, he did his best to keep his poker face on, thinking of a plan. "Alright; we'll sneak past Rose and get to that room. I need to see everything for myself."

Harold was happy to go back there; he and Tyson moved out of the storage room, keeping quiet as they moved carefully throughout the manor.

* * *

Rose moved through the halls of the manor, gun in hand, keeping it raised and steady. She couldn't let her guard down now, nor could she let her guard down _ever_ now that she had this gun. She had the power to end a life in her hands, and for the love of all that was holy, she was _not_ afraid to use it! She had gone through _shit_ this whole killing game, and she was not taking a single second more of abuse. She was going to find this damnable mastermind and she was going to give them the bullet of her gun.

And if she found Tyson or Harold first? Bonus points. She wouldn't mind gunning down some damn psychopaths while she was at it. They killed several people and let _murderers_ go free, while innocents died; as far as she was concerned, they should die as well. They needed to get out of _her_ world so that it can all be peaceful once more.

Reaching the second floor, Rose darted towards the opera hall, deciding that would be the first best place to search. It had plenty of places for people to hide, and lots of room for secret entrances, trapdoors, and the like. It would be perfect, she surmised, and as such, she quickly opened the doors, rushing inside, gun raised high…

And, well, she certainly saw _something_ suspicious.

"Oh shit! What the fuck, girl!? Put that down!" April shouted, dropping what she had been holding. She was on the stage, and she had been carrying coils of rope. Rose glared, pointing her gun directly at the trapper, causing the other girl to raise her hands up, surprised.

"What the hell were you doing with that rope!?" Rose glared, already paranoid enough; and, now, she had caught April doing something suspicious. What kind of girl just goes and gets rope in the middle of the night?

"What the hell are _you_ doing with that gun!?" April shouted, flinching, keeping her hands in the air. "I- I was just, uh… Y'know, I figured I could use the rope, for, uh, something!"

"For what!?" Rose seethed. "To kill someone!?"

"Holy shit, no! Fuck!" April backed up. "Calm down! I wasn't going to _kill_ anyone! Shit, just put the gun down! I don't want to die, and I _especially_ don't want to die to the dumbest person here!"

"You're insulting the girl that's pointing a gun at you." Rose growled, pissed. "Choose your next words very carefully."

"I insulted you because you have the safety on." April smirked, lowering her hands. "Seriously, do you even know how guns work?"

"What? No I don't…" Rose looked down at her gun, confused. She was sure the safety was off; the safety was off when you pulled that back piece-thing, right? It made the 'click' sound, so-

Rose yelled as she felt something hit her with such force that she fell onto her back, hitting the ground, feeling pinned as she felt something cover her. It was the rope! That bitch had thrown the coils of rope on her!

"Later whore!~" April laughed as she ran out of the room. "Haha, fucking idiot!" She snickered, closing the doors behind her and dashing away, wanting to get as far away from Rose as possible.

Rose groaned, taking some time to get out of the mess of rope; the rope was heavy, and she had gotten all tangled up in it. Luckily for her, however, April didn't have the foresight to take her gun; so the judge picked it up, off of the floor, ensuring that the safety was _off_ before leaving the opera hall, pissed. She wasn't going to let April get away with that! The mastermind could wait, _that_ bitch needed to be taught a lesson!

* * *

"I can't believe this…" Tsumiko grimaced, putting down the paper. "This is such bullshit…"

The letter was one of the most disheartening things Tsumiko had ever tried to read… Well, mostly because she couldn't read it. It was in a language she didn't recognize.

"Um.. Do you think this is Russian?" Terry wondered. "It… Looks Russian? No… Uh…. Mongolian? Is Mongolian a language?" He rubbed his forehead, confused.

"Terry. Stop talking." Tsumiko groaned, annoyed. She moved to the front of the altar, taking the papers and pocketing them. "Dammit. It's like our captors our teasing us."

"Well…" Terry almost immediately spoke up, as though he hadn't just heard Tsumiko literally say 'stop talking'. "What if that's the point? They just want to remind us of how futile this all is… That we won't survive unless we kill. And they just gave us weird papers and stuff to make us paranoid."

"Yeah, well, it worked. On you and Rose." Tsumiko let out a 'tsk', crossing her arms.

"I-I said I was sorry…" Terry bit his lip, flicking his wrist. "I just panicked, okay? I didn't think Rose would go… Go all crazy like that."

"She took the only gun in the manor, and is now rampaging around, ready to shoot and put us in another trial." Tsumiko left the altar, walking towards the exit. "'Sorry' won't cut it."

Terry frowned, following. "Hey! You were the one who gave her the gun! _You_ had a part in this, too!" He glared, not wanting to get shoved aside as though he was the only one who had fucked up here. No, they were _both_ guilty.

"..." Tsumiko wanted to bite back, but instead, she pinched her forehead, taking a small breath. No. Terry was right. "... Right. I was weak. I'm sorry." She turned to him, hands on her hips. "But since we did this, _we_ need to fix it. If we can get Rose to calm down, we might be able to take the gun back from her and regain control of this situation."

Terry was surprised; he hadn't actually expected Tsumiko to give in like that. He glanced from left to right, blinking, rubbing his wrist. "... Oh… Well, um… Right. Right, we should do that." He smiled, his anger quickly subsiding, replaced with genuine respect. "I, uh… Didn't think you would apologize."

"Yeah, well, if I didn't acknowledge my own mistakes, I'd be just like Rose, right?" Tsumiko frowned. "And besides; I'm done running away from the shit I've done."

She turned around, heading out the door. "Now are you coming with?"

Terry grinned, following right behind her. "Of course! Let's end this killing game!"

The two headed out of the chapel, leaving it, alongside its secrets, behind.

* * *

Terry and Tsumiko passed through the garden, reaching the first hallway of the manor, only to find a certain someone standing in their way.

"Harold." Tsumiko glared. "Get out of our way."

Harold Slayne, who stood near the corner of the hallway, shook his head, holding his halberd close to his chest. He shook his head, refusing to speak a word.

"Hey!" Terry moved past Tsumiko, standing between her and Harold, glaring at the executioner. "What the hell, man! I thought you were cool! Why did you help Aaron get away with murder!?"

Harold flinched, knowing this was coming, although he had prepared for it. "I… I'm sorry, Terry. I had to. Aaron deserved to live."

"He deserved to live!? He killed Nick and Hannah!" Terry glared, clenching his fists. "Don't you remember Hannah!? We talked to her after Barry died! She was an innocent girl, and you let her die!"

"She wanted to die." Harold shook his head. "I didn't do anything. That was her choice."

"Fuck you!" Terry pounded his wrist against the wall, unwilling to accept that kind of explanation. "You shouldn't have _let her_ do that, then! You should have called Aaron out! I… I thought we were on the same side!"

"Do you want to live..?" Harold wondered, tipping his head, curious. This unsettled the animal photographer; he blinked, letting his guard down.

"Um… Yes? Of course?" Terry grimaced, holding his wrist.

"Then we're on the same side." Harold smiled. "Starting now."

"Oh, just shut up." Tsumiko glared, not willing to lose the only aide she had in this manor. "Terry's with _me._ Now get out of our way, we have to go find Rose!"

"Alright!~" Harold kept smiling, backing up, allowing the two to pass. "But you might want to check the foyer first. Tyson and I set up something awesome!"

Terry felt further unsettled, as though the air in the hall had gotten tense. "Something… Awesome? What do you mean?"

"A real execution!" Harold beamed. "An execution born not out of hate, but out of hope… With her dead, everyone who _should_ live, will live!"

"Who?" Tsumiko took a step back, disturbed. "Who is it? Who died?"

Harold shrugged, motioning to the doors to the foyer. Tsumiko and Terry looked between each other; as much as the two of them would have liked to knock out Harold or try to take control of this situation in some form, Harold was leagues ahead of them when it came to melee fighting. He could easily kill them if they tried to do anything against him. They had no choice but to move to the foyer.

Terry moved ahead of Tsumiko, a horrible feeling swelling in his gut. This morbid, horrible feeling that something happened that they could never take back.

He opened the doors to the foyer, Tsumiko and Harold behind him. And as he entered the room, he grimaced, covering his nose as a horrible stench filled his nostrils.

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

Tyson was standing near the side of the room, grinning, a remote control in his hands, armed with two large, colored buttons. He looked to Terry and Tsumiko with an almost teasing smirk, offering them no explanation besides a small shrug.

April was standing near the other side of the room, hugging herself, shivering. She looked like she had been through hell, with tears rolling down her face, as she moved into a crouched position, hugging her knees, doing her best not to look towards the center of the room.

For the center of the room held a great horror.

The electric chair had been set up, with several wires connecting it to several different devices across the room; most of the devices were generators or outlets, but some were different, including what appeared to be a square pressure plate placed onto the rightmost wall. Most of the machinery was sparking, as though it had recently been in use…

And, given the charred body of Dru West in the chair, it was pretty obvious that the equipment _had_ been used.

* * *

Terry stood still, unable to scream. It was as though the terrifying miasma in the room had gripped his throat, choking him, forcing him to stay as quiet as a mouse as he stared at the charred corpse of someone who was once, perhaps, a friend of his. Dru was a part of their 'detective squad', and the boy had gotten quite attached to the people within it, even if their little squad only lasted for a couple of hours; and, now, she and Hannah were both dead.

The animal photographer took a glance to April, who was whimpering, keeping low to the floor, in a fetal position. She had once been the 'fearless leader' of the group, but shortly after Barry was executed, she had fallen apart and lost her will to care. Now that she had, presumably, witnessed the death of a friend, it seemed as though she had been snapped back to reality, forced to once again put her all into this game of life or death, even if she desperately didn't want to.

Terry shivered, looking the other way, noticing Tsumiko, who was staring at the floor, pinching her nose, doing her best not to acknowledge Dru's corpse. She was beginning to feel as powerless as ever; despite making a big show of things last noon, it seemed as though Tsumiko was quickly falling apart, unable to comprehend the fact that yet another person had died in such a brutal fashion, so soon… The deaths were taking their toll on everyone here, including her.

Finally, Terry looked to Harold; the executioner was simply smiling, as though he truly was happy with this outcome. The boy seemed as though he was proud of what happened, and that was what truly disturbed Terry; the look of pride and accomplishment Harold had after Dru's death.

"Harold… What did you do, man?" Terry finally managed to remove the chokehold that the room's atmosphere had on him. He was shivering, his voice quivering, but he still managed to talk.

"We ended this game." Harold replied with a smile, looking to Terry. "Don't worry! It'll all be over soon; Tyson's plan this time is _genius_!~" The executioner beamed, seeming to have full faith in the tactician.

Terry certainly couldn't get on board with Harold's faith. He looked over to Tyson, who still wore that _awful_ smirk; he seemed just as proud and accomplished as Harold was. Terry frowned back, unable to muster up the strength to send a glare Tyson's way. Instead, he gave one last look to Dru's burnt corpse, flinching, rubbing his wrist.

Dammit. This was going to be a hell of a night.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here!?" Rose yelled as she entered the room, holding her gun up, seeming alert, but dropping her guard as she smelled the awful stench of burnt flesh and noticed Dru's body. "Holy- oh, god…" She held her nose, coughing.

"Oh my god, you bastards killed! I can't believe it! Another murder! This is surprising! Very! Very surprising…" The voice that all six remaining participants of the game had nearly forgotten spoke up, coming out from under one of the ballroom tables. It was Monokuma, acting bored, crossing his arms. "You kids are no fun, you know that? What am I even _here_ for? Am I just _stuffing_ to you!?"

"Just get on with it." Tyson waved his hand, growing bored. "Take us to the trial room."

"Oh no! No no no! Fuck you!" Monokuma glared, his red eye glowing. "We're having an investigation! Last time, these bastards didn't even have a chance, but at least there's _some_ clues around here!"

"Clues…?" Terry wondered, shaking his head. "Wh-what? But.. Tyson _obviously_ killed Dru…"

"Or it was April…" Tsumiko spoke up for the first time in a while, managing to get herself together, looking to the whimpering girl on the floor. "She was probably in here while Dru was electrocuted. She's a suspect, too."

"They're all suspects!" Rose, regaining her cool, pointed her gun towards Harold. "Drop your weapon, get on the ground! I'm putting all three of you psychopaths in the corner!"

Harold dutifully dropped his halberd, shrugging, putting his hands behind his back. Tyson did the same, having expected this treatment.

"I-I didn't do anything…" April tried to speak up, but Rose just pointed her gun to her.

"Oh, really? Look what Dru's tied to the chair with." Rose spat, gesturing to the corpse. As much as everyone in the room didn't necessarily want to look at that burned-up corpse again, it held a vital clue: Dru was tied down with rope…

Terry gulped. "Uh, so… I'm not seeing it, what's the deal with-"

Monokuma just laughed. "Alright, you bastards, speed-investigation time!~ You've got ten minutes! Search the room, and don't bother searching anywhere else 'cause this is the only room that matters! You kids better put up a fight this time!"

"..." Tyson glared at the bear, obviously upset, but not doing anything about it. He had not expected Monokuma to give the others time for investigation, especially after last time, but it seemed that the bear wanted the others to have a 'fair shot'... But, that didn't matter. In a way, Tyson might as well be happy that an investigation has started; after all…

It was checkmate. There was nothing anyone could do anymore. Tyson had won this game.

 **With eight players remaining, Tyson could save up to four people. However, saving four people when Tyson and Harold were revealed as 'enemies' might not be so easy.**

 **There was no way to convince anyone else to perform a murder willingly, unless it was a murder against either Tyson or Harold. And if someone killed one of them, the rest of the players would likely vote to execute the other, leaving them both dead, alongside one person who gets to go free… That would leave 5 people in a game that cannot be controlled. Unless Tyson could have faith that, somehow, one of the five participants killed and got away with it, this was one of the worst possible outcomes. Only one person would be guaranteed to go free.**

 **Besides; in that situation, the participants would believe there is only four of them. That, as explored before, is a highly dangerous scenario, where a double murder is very likely, as killing two people would leave just the killer and an innocent; and in that case, the killer wins, and the innocent is executed. That would leave the killer and Jeremiah alive; and while that was a** _ **decent**_ **outcome, it let only 3 people live, and neither of those people were Tyson or Harold.**

 **Tyson needed to come up with a plan that would allow all four possible people to survive. However, he also wanted to come up with a plan that would allow himself and Harold to survive. The more he prodded his mind, the more he found that both scenarios occurring at the same time might not be possible after all.**

 **So, he would leave it to the others. They would decide.**

 **This was the trial that would decide who lives and who dies. With seven participants remaining, one killer amongst them, and one participant locked in jail, the game was closer to its conclusion than ever before.**

 **The plan was in action. Tyson was putting his life on the line.**

 **So how would this end?**

* * *

Harold hummed an old song from his home, Novoselic, as he sat in the corner with Tyson and April. The girl seemed very unwilling to be here, sat down next to two people she considered psychopaths, while Tyson seemed quiet, as though he were contemplating something.

"Tell me what happened here." Rose glared, pointing her gun at the three. "Who killed Dru!?"

"Oh my god… Oh my god, why did this have to happen…?" April muttered to herself, covering her eyes, shaking, hoping that Rose wouldn't have the guts to shoot her. She was intensely regretting tricking the girl earlier; it was that trick that led her to run to the ballroom, where she saw all of _this._

Harold hummed, not responding, knowing that answering Rose's question would ruin all of their plans. He wasn't about to do that.

"You won't shoot. If you do that, a life is wasted." Tyson sighed, rolling his eyes, as though he were bored. "And every life that's wasted hurts your chances of leaving here alive, Rose."

"What the hell are you talking about? If I killed all three of you here, I'd be safer than ever! The only reason I'm keeping you fuckers alive is because I want to know what happened!" The judge glared, keeping her gun trained on them. "Who killed Dru!?"

"Rose." Tyson sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "I know you're not very bright, but consider this; if you kill us now, you can't kill us later. If you can't kill us later, you can't escape."

Rose frowned, not buying this. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I killed Dru." Tyson shrugged, speaking casually, as though he hadn't just admitted to the murder of another human being. "If you kill me here, you can't execute me in the trial, which would mean the _new_ culprit of the trial would be you. You could vote for Harold and live, but that would leave Tsumiko, Terry, and April alone, and that's one too many survivors. You would be screwing them over, since none of them would want to commit suicide, and the only way to guarantee their survival would be a double murder."

"So?" Rose shrugged. "They can just… Kill April. That's two people, they live, right?"

Monokuma, who was sitting on a table nearby and eating plastic fishies, shook his head. "That's a culprit and an innocent! If they went to trial, the culprit would win, and the innocent would die! Only one person can survive in a three-person scenario; that is, unless someone commits suicide, but that'd be pretty sad!"

"Exactly. If you kill me here, you fuck over everyone else." Tyson frowned. "Same goes for if you kill Harold or April. You'd vote me in the trial, but be left with four people; you could kill the person that you _didn't_ kill before the trial, but that would leave you as a culprit, Tsumiko as an innocent, and Terry as an innocent. One of you would have to die."

"Well one of us would have to die no matter what, then, right?" Rose was getting increasingly annoyed. "That means I have no reason _not_ to shoot you!"

"Please don't… Holy shit, please don't…" April shivered, unable to accept that her life might just be about to end; she pleaded, but Rose wouldn't hear her, as she had her gun trained on Tyson. The tactician simply smirked and kept talking.

"If you leave all of us alive, and execute me in the trial, that leaves five people. You kill Harold or April, execute the other, the culprit goes free, and the remaining two innocents survive." Tyson explained with a small grin. "There. That's the reason why you shouldn't kill any of us before the trial."

Of course, Tyson didn't truly want this outcome. If that happened, that would leave only Rose as a survivor, while Tsumiko, Terry, and Jeremiah were left behind as the three remaining participants. And unless one of them committed suicide, that meant only two people would survive, and neither of them would be Tyson or Harold.

Rose tried to come up with a counter-argument in her head, but instead of finding a solution, she found nothing but frustration. Groaning, she looked to Tsumiko and Terry, who had both resigned themselves to examining the equipment attached to the electric chair. "Figure anything out yet?"

Terry flicked one of the rods on one of the sparking machines, flinching and letting out a small 'ouch', sucking the tip of his finger to relieve himself of the small burn. Tsumiko noticed this and rolled her eyes, looking to Rose. "I don't know what _any_ of this stuff does. Most of it looks like red herrings. I'm not sure what actually started the electrocution."

"Y-Yeah, but, I'm kind of wondering how they got all this stuff down here…" Terry admitted, rubbing his wrist. "There doesn't seem to be a cart or anything…"

"Oh, I did that!" Harold rose his hand with a smile. "Tyson got Dru out of her room while I got this equipment. Rose almost caught me transporting it a few times!"

Rose groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Are you kidding me…?"

Tsumiko sighed, shaking her head. "Whatever… The point is, I don't think we can _investigate_ anything. Almost any of these things could have caused the shock."

"Why don't you just try this remote Tyson had?" Rose took the remote off of the table, frowning as she pressed the button; however, nothing happened. "Huh… Must be out of juice."

Terry sighed, banging his wrist against the wall- and in that same moment, the room lit up, and the horrible sound of electricity flickered throughout the room, causing most of its residents to scream and shout in shock; when it was over, everyone looked back to the chair, seeing that Dru's body had significantly more black spots than it had before.

"Ah, shit, now she's double-dead…" April muttered, shivering at the sight, covering her nose; her twisted sense of humor seemed to help lift her own spirits up just a bit, but those spirits soon vanished when Rose pointed her gun at her again.

"Shut up." Rose growled, looking to Terry. "How the hell did you do that!?"

"Do what!? I didn't do anything!" Terry raised his hands up defensively, eyes widening. "I just hit the wall!"

"That must be yet _another_ way to activate the electric chair." Tsumiko let out a 'tsk'. "See the pad set up against the wall? It must have some sort of… Vibration-sensor… Or something." She clumsily theorized; admittedly, she didn't know enough about electronics to know whether or not that was possible.

"The other side of that wall is the hallway with the dining hall and staircase, right?" Terry remembered. "So… Why put the vibration-thingy there? That's kinda weird."

"Who cares? They set up a whole bunch of this junk to fuck with us anyway." Rose sighed. "Monokuma, can't we just get to the trial? We already know it's Tyson! We'll just vote him, kill Harold, vote April, and then we're all out of here!"

"I'm telling you, I didn't have anything to do with this!" April shouted, regaining some of her strength so that she could glare at Rose. "Fuck you!"

Tsumiko frowned. "Let's just calm down and take this slow. There's no reason to go in there and immediately vote Tyson; this could be his trap."

Rose rolled her eyes. "So getting himself killed is a _trap_ now? Which one of is the paranoid one now, Lola?" She seemed to totally ignore April, causing the trapper to get aggravated even further.

"Tsumiko." The sharpshooter glared. "And don't forget he has Harold and possibly April, too. Just because he dies doesn't mean whatever plans he has are over."

"I'm _not_ with them! I just stumbled in!" April growled.

Monokuma rang a bell in his hand. "Alright, time's up! I'm bored! Let's go to the trial room!~"

"We're so fucked…" Terry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck; with Rose, Tsumiko, and April all against each other, Tyson and Harold had plenty of room to pull tricks and really mess with the participants. The animal photographer only hoped that they could somehow expose Tyson's plan and find a way to get them _all_ out of here, alive.

The room shook, and once again, an elevator rose from the floor, knocking over the electric chair and various components, causing sparks to go everywhere; the players of this life or death game had gotten so used to these 'miniature earthquakes' by now, but the added hazard of sparks gave them a run for their money. Even Tyson got sparked quite a bit in the corner, yelling as his hands got burned, causing him to groan out in pain.

"Don't suppose I can grab some ice real quick?" He sighed, rubbing his hands with a wince. Everyone looked to Tyson, shocked to see he had somehow gotten himself hurt so badly; however, Rose showed no mercy.

"No, fuck you." Rose replied. "Everyone, get in the elevator!"

"Why do we have to take orders from her…?" Harold wondered, not enjoying getting bossed around by Rose.

"Because she has a gun." Tsumiko deadpanned. "And that's about the _only_ reason, but it's a good enough reason. Come on."

The six entered the elevator, with three suspects having a gun pointed in their direction the whole time. Only Tsumiko and Terry seemed to have equal standing with Rose, and even then, Tsumiko felt out of her element, and Terry's paranoia still threatened to strike at his mind at any moment.

* * *

Tyson and Harold kept near one part of the elevator, while April stood only somewhat close, wanting to keep away from the people who caused Dru's death. Rose had her gun pointed towards them from the opposite side of the elevator, unwilling to keep them out of her sight for even a second.

Tsumiko and Terry stood next to each other, watching between Rose and the others. Against all odds, _they_ alone might have to be the ones to find the truth of this incident. With no help from the paranoid Rose, the suspicious April, or the clearly-antagonistic Tyson and Harold, it was up to a sharpshooter and an animal photographer to uncover the mystery of this case.

This class trial was going to be one for the history books.

* * *

 **-=TRIAL PREPARATION=-**

 **The Case of Dru West**

 _After Tsumiko's failed attempt at trying to get anyone to be anything other than paranoid, Tyson and Harold got to work on another devious murder. This time, it appears that either of them might have committed the murder itself; however, it is also possible that someone else aided in their plans. April seems the most suspicious, but Rose's paranoia might have caused her to do something she couldn't take back…_

 _Stand up and fight. You're the only ones who can._

 **Jeremiah Core is still missing. He is confirmed innocent.**

 **-=TRIAL START=-**

* * *

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

The group of six took their spots

Three more podiums were once again empty. Dru and Hannah's podiums were burned, while Aaron's podium remained spotless. This left only six filled podiums.

To Tyson's right were Jeremiah Core (vacant), Harold Slayne, Dru West (dead), Nyla Greens (survived), Arthur York (dead), Georgia York (dead), Barry Berry (dead), Patty Silvers (dead), and Rose Major.

To his left were Rye Titan (dead), Terry Holds, The Deserter (dead), Hannah Snow (dead), April Nun, Julian Grendel (dead), Nick Icarus (dead), Aaron Wright (survived), and Conchordia Flight (survived).

Directly across from him was Tsumiko Yamamoto.

"Alright, you bastards! Make this interesting!" Monokuma shouted. "I want a real challenge this time! None of this 'Tyson kicks all of our asses again' stuff!"

"Then we'll just fucking vote for him!" Rose glared towards the tactician, who simply shrugged in response. "Once we do that, we can kill Harold, vote April, and be out of here!"

"You can't execute me, I didn't do anything!" April yelled, slamming her fist against her podium.

"You clearly did _something_!" Rose snapped, pointing her gun towards the trapper, quickly shutting her up. "You were in the opera hall with coils of rope, and Dru was tied up with rope! Care to explain that!?"

"Wait, is that seriously all the evidence you have against April being involved…?" Terry rubbed his wrist. "Isn't that… Excessive…?"

"Shut it, Terry! She was also there when Dru got electrocuted, yeah? That makes her even MORE suspicious!" The judge, jury, and executioner shouted. "If we have to kill _someone_ else, it might as well be someone as suspicious as her, yeah?"

 **It was true that the group had to kill three people to survive at this rate; if Tyson truly was the culprit, then by voting him, they would be left with five people. Only a killer and two survivors could survive after that.**

"Y-You guys really are disorganized…" Harold coughed. "Um…. Can't you just vote already? Th-this isn't hard…"

"Fuck you!" Rose snarled, but put her gun away for now, putting her hands on her podium. "Seriously, why can't we just go with my plan?"

"April might be innocent. I don't want us to kill an innocent if we don't have to." Tsumiko frowned, crossing her arms. "Before we vote Tyson, we might as well get a clear picture of what happened here, right? Just to be sure."

"Okay, fine. We'll discuss it." Rose rolled her eyes, finding this whole thing meaningless. "But if this doesn't go anywhere, we're voting Tyson."

Tsumiko crossed her arms, concentrating. There had to be some sort of trick here. No way would Tyson just let himself die and end the game here; there was a hidden truth here, and dammit, Tsumiko wasn't letting that truth escape her!

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up ~ Mix_

"Dru obviously died by electrocution…" Rose began, crossing her arms. "But with all those machines in the room, we can't tell what caused the chair to go off, right?"

"It was obviously Tyson!" April pointed. "He had a remote control in his hands the whole time! He must have pressed it, causing the chair to go off!"

"Um… So, April, were you there when the chair went off…?" Terry wondered, rubbing his wrist. "I-I mean… What happened during that time might be important."

"I just barged in after pissing off the judge, jury, and executioner over there." April shrugged, annoyed. "And I found Tyson, with all of that electrical bullshit! I wanted to get Dru out of that thing, but he said he'd kill her if I got close!"

"That's true- I did say that." Tyson confirmed, crossing his arms with a small smirk.

"Thanks for the input, jackass." Rose grumbled.

"So, uh, did you notice anything weird before Dru was electrocuted?" Terry asked, nervous. "Anything we could use as a clue?"

"Well, yeah, actually." April admitted. "Tyson electrocuted her mid-sentence. Like, he interrupted himself to shock her to death; it fucking _traumatized_ me!"

"Then that might be a very useful clue." Tsumiko surmised. "Perhaps Tyson wasn't the one to execute Dru?"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"What the hell!? You can't just come out and say stupid shit like that after such a lame lie!" Rose pounded her fists against her podium. "He 'electrocuted her mid-sentence', and that means he's innocent? Fuck you!"

"This has all been very suspicious since the start." Tsumiko frowned, unwavering. "Tyson, killing in such an obvious way and giving us a clear path to victory? That isn't like him. He's the same person who masterminded the cases that killed so many of our allies; he wouldn't just 'give in' so easily."

"Oh, and if he's so great, why don't you make out with him?" Rose deadpanned, annoyed. "Seriously, where's your proof? I bet April's just lying about Tyson electrocuting Dru at a weird time to cover for him!"

"Why the hell would I do that, you crazy bitch!?" April snapped. "I hate him just as much as the rest of you guys do!"

"If we proved April innocent, _then_ could we believe her testimony…?" Terry wondered. "Or, at least, if we tried to, uh, lower your suspicion of her, Rose..?"

"Th-that's a really good way of solving this problem, Terry!" Harold smiled.

"Please… Don't praise me… It makes _me_ look suspicious…" Terry flicked his wrist nervously, not wanting to get roped in with the likes of Harold.

"Fine, then. Let's talk about whether or not _April_ is a dirty murderer." Rose groaned. "But after that, can't we just vote Tyson?"

"No." Tyson smirked, responding quickly. Rose simply glared at him.

"Fine, I'll prove myself innocent!" April pounded her fists together, determined. "This'll be easy! I didn't even _touch_ Dru!"

 _Class Trial ~ Heat Up ~ Mix_

"Rose's only basis for suspecting me is that I went to get some coils of rope from the opera hall." April frowned, gripping her podium. "But that has _nothing_ to do with Dru's murder! Why the hell am I being suspected?"

"Dru was tied up with rope." Tsumiko twirled her hair, thinking as she spoke. "It's an easy connection to make that you were getting rope for the murder."

"Oh, come on! I had to use all the rope I had to get that psycho-bitch from shooting me!" April pointed towards Rose. "I threw all the rope I had at her!"

"She, uh... " Rose sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "Y-Yeah, she did; but that doesn't mean she couldn't have gotten rope from somewhere else after that!"

"Like where?" April glared, unwilling to take this abuse. "There was nowhere else I could have gotten any rope!"

"What about the place where Harold and Tyson got all that electrical equipment?" Rose tried. "I-I mean, that's possible, right?"

"I agree!" Terry smiled. "That's got to be where the rope came from!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"H-Hey, what the fuck, Terry! I thought you were on _my_ side!" April grimaced, holding her head, nearly ready to scream.

"I am!" Terry declared, flicking his wrist. "And by saying that the rope from the chair came from the same place Harold and Tyson got all the rest of that stuff, we prove your innocence!"

"Oh, bull _shit_!" Rose growled. "How does that even make any sense!?"

"Tsumiko, do you remember there being any straps on the electric chair?" Terry pointed. "I-I need to know! I don't remember there being any!"

Tsumiko looked surprised, but quickly answered. "There… Weren't any, besides the rope. Where are you going with this..?"

"What kind of electric chair comes without straps?" Terry asked the court. "Why wouldn't this chair come without straps?"

"Oh! It wouldn't!" Harold beamed. "You always need straps on an electric chair, to keep the executed person in place during the whole thing!"

"So why would Harold, an expert executioner, grab so much shit, but not straps for the chair?" Terry frowned. " _Obviously_ the rope _is_ the straps that came with the electric chair! April wasn't the one that brought that rope; it was included all along!"

"Y-Yeah! The electric chair and rope were not sold separately!" Harold smiled. "That was really smart, Terry!"

"Please… Stop. Forever." Terry coughed, rubbing his arm. Seriously, why was the psychopath so focused on complimenting him? Was it because he was nice to Harold once? Terry was instantly regretting that heart-to-heart they had in the elevator…

"Ha! So that means you have no proof I was involved! Because I _wasn't_ , bitch!" April grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "Get fucked!"

Rose pointed her gun at April, causing the trapper to shut up almost immediately.

"I'm still not buying this." Rose glared. "Why did she go out in the middle of night for rope in the first place, then?"

 _Class Trial ~ Dawn Edition_

"... U-Uh…" April fumbled, rubbing her shoulder nervously, glancing away. "Well… That… That doesn't matter! I plead the fifth!"

"There is no fucking fifth here!" Rose shouted, keeping her gun trained on April. "What did you need the rope for!?"

"I, uh…" April blushed, holding her chest. "Um… Well, you know, I thought I was gonna die soon, so… Figured I might as well, uh, you know…"

"S-So you were going to hang yourself!?" Terry flinched, assuming the worst.

"... Yes! I was going to hang myself!" April grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "Definitely!"

"I've… Never heard someone exclaim that they were going to hang themselves so enthusiastically before…" Tsumiko sighed. "Can we continue now? April is obviously… Well, I wouldn't call her 'innocent', but…"

"Okay, okay, fine. So she was telling the truth." Rose groaned, annoyed as she put her gun away. "But that doesn't mean Tyson didn't electrocute Dru!"

"There's more evidence to suggest Tyson didn't do it, though." Tsumiko frowned. "You proved it yourself, Rose."

"I… I did?" Rose shook her head, pinching her forehead. "N-No… I.. Didn't, did I…?"

"The remote!" Terry remembered. "When Rose hit the button, nothing happened!"

"So? Didn't it just run out of battery or something?" April shook her head. "I mean, that remote _had_ to be for the electric chair, right?"

"It could have just has easily been for something else." Tsumiko argued. "Remember, it didn't cause the electric chair to go off; but the device on the wall _did_."

"That doesn't prove anything." Rose scoffed, crossing her arms.

"It totally does! The electrocution happened when Tyson was in the middle of talking to April, _and_ the remote didn't cause the chair to go off a second time, but another device did!" Terry pointed, determined. "That's two coincidences! That's… Enemy action, right?"

"Once is a mistake; twice is coincidence; three times is enemy action!" April smirked, proud of herself for remembering the phrase.

"Then give us a third reason not to trust that Tyson killed Dru!" Rose glared. "I mean, who else could have? _Harold?_ I don't mind voting him instead!"

"No, Harold is innocent. Terry and I were with him around the time Dru got electrocuted." Tsumiko remembered. "April, how long before we arrived did Dru get killed, again…?"

"Uh… Thirty seconds, I'd say…." April guessed, rubbing her shoulder nervously.

"Then that's about right. Terry, Harold, and myself have alibis." Tsumiko nodded. "And if Tyson didn't do it, and April didn't do it…"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"Wait… Hey, what the fuck!?" Rose glared. " _I_ didn't do it!"

"How do we know that!?" April glared. "You're the crazy bitch who's been pointing a gun at us the whole time! You could have had a remote of your own! One that actually _worked_!"

"No, screw that! Tyson's the one who had the remote! Just because it didn't work afterwards, and he electrocuted Dru at a weird time, you think he didn't do it!?" Rose shouted, banging her hands against her podium. "You're all insane! Why would I kill Dru, anyway!?"

"If you killed Dru, and Tyson is executed…" Tsumiko hummed, thinking on her feet. "You can leave, and the game would continue. Since Tyson has a track record of getting murderers free, you might have seen your chance to get out of this hell; you _were_ acting very paranoid when you left the chapel…"

"Plus, that would explain why Tyson's acting confident!" Terry pointed out. "If he _and_ Harold aren't the culprit, that means they'd be in a really good spot, right? Even if one of them was executed, a culprit would go free; they would win!"

"A plan in which their deaths not only _wouldn't matter_ , but would actually _help_ them…" Tsumiko frowned. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"W-Wait! But, just a second!" Rose grimaced, panicking. "April! When you hit me with the rope, I didn't have a remote in my hands, did I!? Then you went to the foyer, and found Tyson with all of the electrical stuff set up! So where could I get a remote to kill Dru with!? How could I kill her at all?"

"Um… Damn, she really didn't have a remote…" April groaned, crossing her arms. "So, uh, how _did_ she kill Dru…?"

"I didn't! I didn't kill anyone!" Rose glared, pulling out her gun for the fiftieth time that day. "So shut up about it! Why can't we just vote Tyson and get this over with!?"

"You're making yourself seem so innocent right now." April deadpanned, throwing her hands up into the air, on the verge of giving up and simply voting against Rose.

"I can think of something Rose could have used without any of us knowing." Tsumiko mused. "And it wasn't a remote."

Rose pointed her gun towards Tsumiko. "Shut up! There wasn't anything like that! I didn't do anything!" She shouted, growing more and more agitated. "I mean, are you kidding me!? I would _never_ work with those bastards!"

It was true that Rose wouldn't ever dare work with her 'rival', Tyson, but Tsumiko still suspected that something was going on here. After all, there _was_ a way for Rose to kill Dru!

 _Class Trial ~ Rebuttal Showdown_

"There was no way for me to kill Dru!" Rose glared. "I didn't have a remote! I didn't have a switch! I had nothing on hand!"

"It's possible something was left wherever Harold and Tyson got their supplies.." Tsumiko theorized. "That is _one_ way you could have done it…"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure they just conveniently left behind one button for someone to press after getting every little machine in that fucking ballroom! Fuck you!" Rose shouted.

"It's true that it seems that they brought everything possible into the ballroom… Which means you must have found a way to activate something that was in the ballroom." Tsumiko decided, keeping calm.

"How the hell could I have activated anything _inside_ the ballroom when I was _outside_ of it!?" Rose pounded her fists against her podium. "Are you crazy!?"

"It has to be the vibration-sensor!" Tsumiko decided. "That was how you could have done it!"

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"H-Huh…?" Rose paled. "But… I didn't… What!?"

"If you banged against the opposite side of that wall, you definitely would have triggered that mechanism." Tsumiko explained. "And as Terry proved, that sensor can trigger the electric chair. That must be it!"

"Uh, wait." April blinked. "Rose couldn't have set that off, right? That sensor was on the other side of the room; Tsumiko, Terry, and Harold were on the other side of that wall, right?

 _Class Trial ~ Silence_

Terry coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… April? The sensor was on the side with the dining hall. Rose could've easily gone there without us noticing and hit the wall."

"What? No, the sensor was on the other side! I remember that box-looking thing!" April pointed. "It was on the wall with the hallway to the garden behind it! I remember clearly!"

"But it was on the opposite wall when we arrived…" Terry blinked. "What… What does _that_ mean?"

Tsumiko bit her lip, confused. Her line of accusation lead her down a different path than she expected. The sensor was on a different wall? But then it ended up on the opposite wall?

"Uhhhhhh…." Rose felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead as she coughed, trying her best to calm down, adjusting her dress. "Does… Does that mean I'm proven innocent?"

"Wait; how could the sensor switch walls?" Tsumiko frowned. "April, when do you last remember seeing the plate where it was?"

"Uh… Well, it was behind me." April recalled. "Tyson was on the other side of the room… But then Dru started getting electrocuted, and I kinda freaked."

"There's no way Tyson could have… Switched it, right?" Terry gulped. "I-I mean… He would have gotten shocked, at least a little bit! All of the machines were sparking when we got in there…"

Tyson, who had been mostly silent this trial, seemed to fidget somewhat at Terry's mention of him getting shocked. At the sight of this, the court turned its attention to Tyson.

 _Class Trial ~ Universal Edition_

"... Your hands." April glared. "Your fucking hands… You fucker! You didn't shock them when the elevator was rising! You shocked them when you moved the fucking sensor!"

"Holy shit holy shit holy shit…." Terry grimaced, hugging himself. "N-No.. No, he switched… Oh my god… No…!"

"Hey, why is Terry freaking out?" Rose flinched, confused. "What's going on here?"

"W-Wait…" Tsumiko grimaced; she hadn't put it together quite as quickly as Terry had, but when she saw Terry panicking, it hit her. "Monokuma! What if a culprit _accidentally_ kills someone!?"

"Still counts!" Monokuma grinned. "Even if it's a trap, whoever _directly_ kills is the culprit of the trial!"

"Oh fuck me!" Terry cried out, covering his face with his hands, shaking. "FUCK! Holy shit, I killed her! I fucking killed her!"

"Woah, woah, calm down!" April grimaced. "What the hell do you mean you killed her!? You didn't bang the wall, did you?"

Tsumiko clutched her chest. "... He… He did. He hit the wall."

"WHAT!?" Rose shouted. "What the fuck!? Why!?"

"This was what you wanted, wasn't it!?" Tsumiko ignored Rose's question, glaring towards Harold. "That's why you met us in the hallway! You wanted to get a reaction out of Terry, and use his tick against him!"

* * *

" _She wanted to die." Harold shook his head. "I didn't do anything. That was her choice."_

" _Fuck you!" Terry pounded his wrist against the wall, unwilling to accept that kind of explanation._

* * *

" _Do you want to live..?" Harold wondered, tipping his head, curious. This unsettled the animal photographer; he blinked, letting his guard down._

" _Um… Yes? Of course?" Terry grimaced, holding his wrist._

" _Then we're on the same side." Harold smiled. "Starting now."_

* * *

"Terry's the culprit." Tsumiko grimaced. "That's the trap Tyson and Harold set."

 _Class Trial ~ New Classmate of the Dead_

Tyson smiled, finally speaking up. "That's absolutely correct. Terry is the culprit."

"What!?" Harold's eyes widened. "T-Tyson! We… We weren't supposed to reveal that! Th-that wasn't part of the plan!" The executioner grimaced, looking to the tactician, who frowned in response.

"I'm really sorry, Harold… I wanted them to vote Rose…" The tactician sighed, rubbing his burned hand against his arm, wincing. "But… I didn't count on April remembering where that sensor was put. I thought Dru's death would mess her up enough that she wouldn't remember."

"Th-that was the plan! But… We can't just give up! T-Terry's life is on the line!" Harold shouted.

"That's exactly _why_ I gave up. Do you think they're gonna vote for _me_ if I lie to protect Terry?" Tyson shook his head, looking to the others. "No. They won. They get the choice now."

"Hey, what the fuck were you planning!?" Rose glared, pointing her gun at Tyson. "Why would you make Terry kill Dru!?"

"He obviously wanted everyone to vote someone that wasn't Terry…" Tsumiko flinched. "Even if it was himself… But, he wanted us to be led to the conclusion that Rose did it… So that he could live, and the girl with the gun would die."

"Bingo." Tyson sighed. "With Rose dead and Terry free, it would be checkmate. I could kill you or April, the rest would vote for me, and we get the fairy tale ending."

"A-And we can still get it!" Harold glared. "V-Vote Rose! If you do, a-an innocent goes free, and your chances of living goes up!"

"Tempting offer." April admitted. "But how about _fuck no?_ You tried to trick us!"

Terry had tears in his eyes. He was mumbling to himself, shaking his head, seeming to be on the verge of a panic attack; and despite this, the others argued and explained, moving on with the discussion.

"Well, I tried, and that failed. Now the choice is yours." Tyson smirked. "What do you want to do now that you know who the culprit is?"

"What?" Rose frowned. "What do you mean? Knowing the culprit is Terry doesn't change anything! We'll vote you!"

"I would also like to vote Tyson on account of him being an asshat, yes." April glared.

"Th-then… We have to, don't we..?" Harold grimaced. "T-Tyson, are… Are you sure….?"

Tyson kept up his smirk, giving Harold a small nod. After all… They had talked about this.

* * *

" _Tyson, you can't! You'd basically be committing suicide!" Harold yelled at the tactician from within the ballroom. "I-It isn't right! You helped s-so many people survive, why do you have to die!?"_

 _Tyson shrugged. "I helped people live, but I also caused a lot of deaths… I see this as… Retribution." He smiled. "Besides, this is the only way Terry gets to live; and if they blame Rose, bonus points. No matter what, I may die, but my plans will succeed, and as many people that could have lived, will have lived."_

" _B-But.. What if you die!? That leaves the girls and I…" Harold grimaced. "What do I do then!?"_

" _That's up to you." Tyson nodded. "If you kill two of them, you can win in a trial against the last innocent, and you and Jeremiah could go free… Or, you could find a way to get one of them to kill, and help them succeed. In which case, you, someone else, and Jeremiah all live. Either way, you live, so you face no peril in this plan."_

" _But… But how could I even kill Rose? She has a gun!" Harold grimaced. "And, again, what if you DIE!? You can't die! You're my friend!"_

" _I have a plan for that." Tyson laughed. "And, don't worry, Harold. I have a feeling everything's going to be just fine…_

* * *

Though Tyson had kept one thing hidden from Harold…

 _This was the outcome he wanted._

"Wait." Rose stopped herself. "Wait… He wants to die…? Wait…"

"No matter what, he wins." Tsumiko observed. "If we kill him, Terry goes free, and that leaves four people… If we kill Harold, the culprit is executed, and-"

 _Class Trial ~ Revival Edition_

"Wait!" Rose shouted. "The _culprit_!? That would be me! I'm the one with the gun!"

"So?" April shook her head. "One of us would have to die, right? And you're the one who wanted _me_ to die, so, you can take the hit for us this time, girly."

"What!? Fuck that! We'd be voting _you_!" Rose glared, pointing her gun. "Right, Tsumiko!?"

"Well, um…" Tsumiko flinched, not expecting the situation to be flipped on its head like this so quickly. "I mean… One of us _would_ have to die in that scenario, but, can't we think it through before assuming we have to sacrifice someone? There has to be a way we can all survive, right?"

"No, there isn't…" Rose frowned. "At four people, only two can survive. That's the point!"

 **At four participants in this killing game, only two can survive, at maximum. And even then, for that to happen, someone must kill only one person. This was unlikely, as killing two people would guarantee the killer an escape.**

"Or _one_ …" April's eyes widened. "After we vote Tyson… Rose can kill us all! She would just have to shoot two of us, go to trial with the last guy, and win! Guaranteed! It wouldn't be a vote!"

"What!? I wouldn't do that!" Rose glared. "Why would I do something so selfish!?"

Tsumiko immediately remembered the church incident. "That… Does sound likely, actually…" The sharpshooter admitted. "Rose has complete control if we vote Tyson. And I wouldn't put it past her to kill us to live."

Rose grimaced, hands shaking as she held her gun. "You.. You really think I'd do that!?"

"YES! YES, BITCH! WE _ALL_ THINK YOU'D DO THAT!" April shouted, slamming her hands on her podium and glaring at Rose. "Look at yourself! You're a fucking _psychopath_!"

Tyson had never wanted popcorn more in his life. He did all he could _not_ to chuckle, trying to look solemn, if only to appease Harold, who was still freaking out about how Terry was revealed as the culprit. Terry, meanwhile, was unable to contribute, resorting to tears as he did his best to pull himself together.

Rose glared back, tears in her eyes. "At least I've been _trying_ to do something! I-I've been the only one keeping this group together, okay!? Without me, Tyson would have killed us all by now!"

"Listen whore, the best you've done for us is shut up and let Tsumiko talk instead!" April mocked with a grin, no longer fearing Rose. "Face it! We can't trust you worth shit!"

"B-But I don't deserve to _die_ for that!" Rose glared. "B-Because I'm _not_ dying! I'm the one with the weapon! We'll vote Tyson, then I'll kill Harold, and we'll vote _you_!"

"Ha! You think Tsumiko would vote for me!?" April grinned. "Anyone can see that _you're_ the one who needs to be put down!"

"FUCK YOU!" Rose shouted, pointing her gun at April once more. "I'll kill you right now if I have to!"

"Do it, bitch! You won't!" April didn't budge, finding the foundation she needed to fight back against Rose. "If you kill me now, you'd have to kill Tsumiko, too, just to escape! Then you'd be proving me _right_!"

"Girls!" Tsumiko slammed her fists against her podium, trying her best to regain control of the situation. "Let's calm down! There has to be another way! Panicking and yelling at each other is _exactly_ what Tyson wants!"

 _It's true_ , Tyson felt like saying, _I am very entertained right now._ His sense of humor had become so twisted throughout the course of his stay at this manor, but damn if these two tearing each other apart while he watched wasn't _delightful._

"Okay! Okay, fine!" April lifted her hands into the air. "But what other choice do we have!?"

Rose, starting to calm down, glanced over to the crying Terry. At this rate, she was sure that voting for Tyson wouldn't end well; Tsumiko and April would vote for her after Harold died.

If that was the case, there was only one way Rose could guarantee her safety. She couldn't get majority against April or Tsumiko. Rose certainly didn't want votes against herself. Voting Harold or Tyson would lead her to the awful situation she found herself in.

There was only one way she could live.

"We could vote Terry." Rose spoke up. "If he dies, we can kill Tyson or Harold, and vote the other. All three of us would survive."

 _Class Trial ~ Panic Debate_

"You… You have to be kidding." Tsumiko grimaced. " _No._ No, we're not voting Terry! Why the hell would we vote Terry!?"

"If we vote Terry, we all get to live!" Rose was panicked, hands shaking, trying to still herself by placing her hands on the podium. "Think about it! If we vote Terry here, we don't have to make any other sacrifices!"

"We would be sacrificing TERRY!" Tsumiko glared. "And he's quickly become the _only_ person in this room I can _stand_!... No offense, April."

"Ah, I can't blame you." April shrugged the comment off.

"Well it's either that, or we fight forever!" Rose crossed her arms, glaring at Tsumiko. "One of us has to die, right!? He's the one who killed Dru!"

"How about we just vote you?" April wondered with a small smirk. "That would work, wouldn't it?"

"Bitch, I will shoot you!" Rose yelled, _once again_ pointing her gun towards April. "I won't let you vote me!"

April smirked, giving Rose a small shrug. "How are you going to shoot me with the safety on?"

"The safety's not on. That's not going to work _twice._ " Rose glared further, keeping the gun trained directly on April. The trapper just smirked.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it just worked."

Rose felt a sudden pain in the front of her face, especially around her nose; she was hit with such force that she fell to the ground, dropping her gun and hitting the ground with a 'thud', causing her to yell out in pain, covering her nose with her hand, her vision somewhat blurry as she looked up to see Tsumiko above her. She could hear Terry yelling out and April whistling, impressed.

"Ah. By the way." Tsumiko picked up the gun, messing with it, causing a mechanic 'click' to go off. "You had the safety on."

Moving back to her podium, Tsumiko trained the gun on Rose, speaking up. "Monokuma, we're ready to vote."

"Holy shit!" Terry cried, wiping his tears. "D-Did you kill her!?"

"No, she's alive…" Harold looked to Rose as she groaned, trying to get up. "B-But that was an impressive punch…"

"Upupupupu!~" Monokuma banged his gavel. "It's voting time, kids! Everyone, say your vote aloud when I call on you! When we hit majority- that's four people, by the way- I'll count that as your chosen culprit!"

"Tsumiko Yamamoto!"

"W-Wait…" Rose groaned, trying to get to her feet. "Th-this is just what Tyson wants, right!?" She pleaded, removing her hand from her face, revealing a broken, bloody nose. "He wants me to die! He said so! He never meant for us to find out Terry was the culprit, s-so, so this is just part of his plan!"

"Vote Rose Major." Tsumiko crossed her arms, Rose's pleas falling on deaf ears. "What Tyson _wants_ is for as many people to live as possible. He and Harold are going to die; but one of us has to die, too. I'm sorry, Rose."

"W-Wait!" Rose got to her feet, moving to her podium, gripping it, tears in her eyes. "Just wait! I-If you kill me, you're just as bad as them! You're sacrificing someone to save yourselves!"

"April Nun!"

"Like you didn't just try to do that?" April scoffed. "Fuck you! Vote Rose!"

"Terry Holds!"

"T-Terry, please!" Rose begged, crying. "Please! You can't do this to me! Y-You're not a killer!"

Terry grimaced, unable to look Rose in the eyes… He shook his head, muttering to himself, sniffling. "I…"

"Terry!" Rose pleaded, nearly shaking her podium. "Don't!"

"... V-Vote Tyson.." Terry grimaced. "I-I… I'm sorry, I can't…"

"Tyson Jin!"

"I sure as hell can." Tyson scoffed. "Vote Rose!"

"No! No no no no no!" Rose's eyes widened; she backed away from her podium, feeling as trapped as a deer in headlights. "No! I-I didn't do anything! Please, I didn't kill her, a-and. I didn't do anything wrong! Please!"

"Harold Slayne!"

Rose stopped as she realized who her life was in the hands of now. She looked to Harold, who was staring back at her, a small smile on his face.

"Rose!~" He beamed.

Monokuma slammed his gavel down. "That's majority, folks! Upupup!~ This was a wild one!~"

Rose wanted to scream; if she could, she would. But as soon as majority was reached, she felt something clasp around her neck, cold and metallic. Looking down at the metal collar that gripped tightly around her neck, she reached out to her podium, but it was too late; she was pulled back with lightning-fast speed, into an opening in the wall of the courtroom.

Nobody in the room even got the chance to hear her scream.

"Oh my god…." Terry hugged himself, crying. "R-Rose… Rose is dead… O-Oh my god…"

"That collar snapped her neck, holy shit!" April grimaced. "D-Did you see that!? There's no way that was natural neck-bending activity!"

Tsumiko couldn't let herself be distracted now, however; as awful as that was, it was necessary. And now, she had the chance to end all of this.

Raising her gun, she took a deep breath, readying herself.

This time, she wouldn't miss.

* * *

"Dust on this tired old street~ Mark colors where we used to play~"

Jeremiah hummed to himself as he worked on the lock, grinning as he felt something begin to click.

"Dust trace our tired old feet~" He hummed to himself. "As we pace our time away~"

And with a click and a small push, the door to his cell opened. Grinning wildly, Jeremiah stood up, laughing to himself. "YES!" He raised a fist to the air. "Yes! Thank you, God! Thank you, sweet baby Jesus! Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ "

With a triumphant grin and a skip in his step, Jeremiah laughed to himself, reaching the ladder and pushing on the trapdoor-

…

Oh. The trapdoor was locked.

Banging his head against the bars of the ladder, Jeremiah groaned, cursing himself. Goddammit. Of course. Of fucking course! Because why _wouldn't_ it be locked!

Reaching the floor of the prison again, Jeremiah growled, slamming his fist into the wall next to him- however, as soon as he hit the wall, the mechanic heard an odd sound.

Was that…?

He knocked on the wall again, feeling that the sound was a little… Light. He knocked around that spot in the wall, feeling that some sounds were louder than others. Part of this wall appeared to not have much behind it…

" **A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!"**

Oh son of a bitch! Jeremiah grimaced, heart dropping into his stomach as he realized he was too late to save another life… But he shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could do about that now. Knocking along the wall, he decided to search it for clues; and within minutes, he found a loose brick, which he managed to pull out.

Behind the brick was a keypad. Eight numbers were required. Jeremiah wasn't sure whether he wanted to praise the heavens above, or curse them for providing him with yet another mental challenge.

"Okay, okay… Eight digits…" He mumbled to himself. "Eight digits. Uhhh.. A date! Month, day, year… Right, right... " He put a hand over his heart, taking a deep breath, doing his best to calm down and think. "Dates, dates… I don't even know what the fuck today's date is… Dammit.."

But there was one date that stuck out to Jeremiah…

The day that he was kidnapped. December 10th, 2018. That was the last day Jeremiah remembered before waking up here. His last memories before this hell rested in that day.

With a small spark of hope, he pressed the numbers '12102018' into the keypad…

 **BZZZZT!**

The screen flashed red, and the numbers disappeared, indicating that he was wrong. What the hell!? That was his only guess! Becoming frustrated, Jeremiah tried to take another approach…

Oh. Wait. Wait!

Jeremiah inputted the code '10122018' into the keypad. Day, month, year. Would that make a difference?

 **BING!**

Holy _fuck._ Jeremiah grinned as the screen went green, and the wall slowly moved down, causing dust to go everywhere. The mechanic coughed, swatting away the dust, blinking several times as he looked to the hidden passage he had just uncovered.

It seemed to be an old miner's tunnel of some sort. With lights hanging from the ceiling, and plenty of wooden supports, it looked like quite the claustrophobic space. However, Jeremiah didn't mind; he just wanted out of the jail. Preparing himself for what may lie ahead, he entered the tunnel, following the lights through the winding path that the tunnel led him down.

After a couple of minutes of travel, Jeremiah noticed that he seemed to be going lower and lower into the ground. The tunnel sloped downwards, with plenty of branching pathways, though most of them were too dark for him to comfortably follow them. He simply followed the lights, about to make a quick turn when he felt something pull on his arm.

"AH!" Jeremiah yelled, jumping back, looking into the darkness of one of the branching paths; a hand had gripped his jacket, and a voice sushed him. The mechanic's heart was beating a million miles a minute, but as he peered into the darkness, he suddenly realized who this was.

"Wait…" Jeremiah breathed. "Wh-what the.. You're supposed to be dead!"

* * *

 **REMAINING PLAYERS: 6?**

 **SURVIVED PLAYERS: 4?**

 **CHAPTER 5: Savior of Nothing: END**


	7. Chapter 6: Glory to a Nation of Liars

The trial room remained silent for only a moment after Rose's death. The remaining players in this sick, twisted game were only given a short moment to find peace with what they had done.

For Tsumiko Yamamoto, Rose's death was yet another loss in a string of failures. Rose Major had gone off the deep end and threatened them all many times with that gun. And, yet, Tsumiko still felt that there could have been a chance. What if they had calmed down and talked about it rationally? Could they have found a way for all four of them to survive? Could they have found a way to kill Tyson and Harold without letting anyone else suffer…?

But even with all those doubts in her mind, Tsumiko knew now what she had to do. Gun pointed squarely at Tyson, she took a deep breath; that one second of mourning was over. The one moment everyone in the room had to try and get themselves together was now over.

Tyson had other plans; in that moment, he had not mourned, nor had he blanked out from fear or surprise. Instead, he put his hand in his pocket, quickly fishing out the dagger he had kept with him since the beginning of this twisted game. With a small grin, he made a quick movement, throwing the dagger across the room at a great speed for one last gambit-

Shattered.

The dagger that was thrown at Tsumiko shattered in mid-air, and the pieces fell before her. Everyone had covered their ears, not prepared for the sound of a sudden gunshot, alongside the sound of the metal shattering.

Tsumiko frowned, not impressed. She glanced down at her arm, noticing that one small shard from the dagger _had_ found its way into her… But it was just a small piece of the dagger, and the pain was minimal. She gently removed the piece, watching as a small amount of blood flowed from her arm, onto the floor. The bloody piece of the dagger that she now held in her free hand was outstandingly sharp; Tyson must have prepared for this. He wanted her dead.

But Tyson had made one fatal mistake.

Tyson had assumed that, with the cowardice Tsumiko showed with shooting others, she would not shoot, even to save her own life. He had assumed he could kill her and have it over with. However, by throwing that dagger and drawing blood, Tyson only hardened Tsumiko's resolve to live.

And with that resolve came another shot.

Tyson yelled out, falling to the ground in a crumpled mess. He gripped his chest as he experienced a pain like no other; a gut-wrenching pain that had forced him to stop thinking about his mistakes, his plans, and his motives… Instead, all he could think about was the _pain._

"O-Oh my god, did you kill him!?" April's eyes widened. "Is that fucker finally dead!?"

"I don't know…" Tsumiko bit her lip, unsure. She had never shot anyone before. It appeared as though she had shot Tyson in his lower, right chest… She should have aimed for the heart, but her arm was shaky. She looked down, noticing some more blood; had that sharp scrap caused more damage than she thought? Flinching, she groaned, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, replacing itself with some great pain.

Harold was completely shaken by what had just happened; Tyson laid on the floor, screaming, holding his chest as he sat in a pile of blood. Harold thought this wouldn't happen; he thought they had won… But he had mentally prepared for Tyson's death already. He had assumed Tyson would be executed in the first place, rather than Rose, so the only shock was that Tyson's plan didn't go as, well, planned, after Rose was executed.

So the boy shook his feelings off, rushing towards Tsumiko; he noticed that the sharpshooter was shaken, and that her shooting arm was bleeding. This would be his chance to take the gun and regain control!

Terry noticed this, however; if only because he couldn't stand to look at the bleeding boy to his right, the animal photographer noticed Harold making a mad dash to Tsumiko. Knowing he couldn't catch up in time, the boy took his camera and threw it. "TSUMIKO, LOOK OUT!"

Tsumiko's eyes widened and she turned to her left, seeing the executioner dashing towards her; however, just before Harold could make it, he was knocked back, taking a camera to the side of his head. He whined and held the side of his head as Terry's camera crashed onto the floor, broken after being used as a projectile.

Tsumiko took this chance to take aim once more, uncaring of her wound; Harold's eyes widened at this, and he held his hands up in the air, attempting to reason with the sharpshooter.

"W-W-Wait!" The boy cried. "Y-You can't kill me! Y-You n-need me, y-you need to v-vote for me, r-right!?"

"The fucker's right!" April grimaced. "Don't do anything stupid, Tsumiko! We need him alive!"

"We do need him alive…" Tsumiko took a deep breath, understanding. "Right…. We need him alive, so…."

She lowered her gun… And took a shot, causing Harold to cry out, crumpling to the floor, adding to the screams of agony in the room.

"Holy shit girl! What the fuck did I just say!?" April cried, taking a step back, horrified.

"I shot him in the foot, he'll live." Tsumiko shuddered, gripping her bleeding arm. "If… If I didn't shoot him, he could've grabbed my gun and killed us. I won't… I won't let that happen." She resolved, grimacing. "... I… C-Can I get some help…?"

"Uh, d-do we have any cloth? Medical stuff?" Terry grimaced, trying to think of something to help Tsumiko. "I could use my shirt, maybe?"

"Look, I know things are going to absolute shit, but can we at least avoid having to look at Terry shirtless?" April shuddered, taking off her own shirt. "No, fuck it, here Tsumiko, I know how to treat a deep cut. There was this one time, with a bear trap-"

"J-Just help me." Tsumiko flinched, not wanting to hear about more bloody incidents while Tyson and Harold were yelling bloody murder in the room. "Please."

Terry gulped, looking away, electing not to look at April right now. He didn't even bother to feel insulted at this point; he had just learned that he accidentally caused the death of a friend, and the last thought on his mind was of whether or not he looked okay shirtless. He looked to Tyson, noticing the boy seemed to be getting quieter, breathing steadying.

Tyson was using what little strength he had to apply pressure to the wound through his clothes. He was in immense pain, shuddering and doing his best to keep the pressure up, though his strength was threatening to leave him. He _had_ to live, no matter what. The immense pressure placed upon him in this moment was starting to break him, but he did his best to be defiant, not allowing himself to die just yet. Not to a single shot, no. He would live to the best of his abilities…

Because the longer he lived, the more time he had to figure out a way to get himself and Harold out of this mess.

* * *

Jeremiah, shocked, looked at the man before him as though he had seen a ghost. And, well, for the mechanic, this _was_ seeing a ghost. He had believed Tyson when the tactician listed off the deaths. Granted, thinking back on it, believing his captor's words was pretty damn stupid, but the thought of Tyson finding it necessary to lie to Jeremiah just hadn't occurred to him.

"You thought I was dead?" The man before Jeremiah let out a weak laugh, holding his own shoulder, as though covering something. His other hand was carrying some sort of shotgun, it seemed. "I thought _you_ were outta here, pal! What are you doing down here!?"

"I… I was trapped. By Tyson and Harold." Jeremiah explained quickly, grimacing. "After Julian's trial. But I… I found my way in here, I guess, it's… It's a long story. Barry, how are you alive!? Weren't you killed?"

"C'mon, pal, have some faith!" Barry laughed weakly, sporting a grin, taking his hand off of his shoulder, placing it on Jeremiah's. "You think an ace journalist like me can die _that_ easily? I've gotten out of pickles way bigger than this one!"

"Barry…" Jeremiah's eyes widened. He noticed that the hand Barry was putting on his shoulder was bloodied, and that the journalist's shoulder was stained blood red. The journalist's sleeves had been ripped off and had been used as cloth, tying around some horrible wound to keep pressure on it.

"What, you think this is bad?" Barry smirked. "Don't even worry about it. I'm not gonna let some bullet wound stop me! If I've got anything to say about it, _we're gonna live forever!_ That's my motto, y'know?"

"Holy shit, Barry…" Jeremiah chuckled, unable to keep himself from grinning back. "You're goddamned insane… But I have never been more glad to see a dead man walking in my entire life."

"Glad to hear it!" Barry beamed. "Now, uh… Could… Could you help with the wound? I'm kinda bleeding out over here… Haha…" He winced, holding his shoulder once more. Jeremiah's eyes widened and he nodded, moving to help the man, applying pressure while doing his best to keep the cloth-knot tight.

"So what the hell happened up there?" Jeremiah frowned. "Tyson told me that Arthur and Georgia were killed, and you were executed…"

"They tried to execute me, alright." Barry grunted, feeling the immense pain in his shoulder growing as Jeremiah worked on it. "Grh… They were going to shoot me down with a shotgun. They got me good in the shoulder, but I tackled them down. Got their shotgun off of them in the heat of the moment and ran like hell. I've been running for my life in these tunnels ever since."

"Wait, so you didn't even check who was shooting you?" Jeremiah looked incredulously to Barry. "What do you mean 'they'?"

"There's a lot of 'em patrolling around here. They're in gas masks and uniforms. They look like a buncha World War Two troopers lemme tell ya." Barry shuddered. "I'd try to figure out who they are or what they want, but, well, all they've wanted these past few hours it to blow my head off."

"Barry, it's been almost a day since you were 'executed'." Jeremiah pointed out. "How did you survive that long?"

"It's been _almost a day?_ " Barry's eyes widened. "Shit, pal… I, uh... " He slumped a bit, unsure. "I guess I was better than I thought… Hehe…" He groaned, though, the pain affecting him.

Jeremiah shook his head, finishing typing up the cloth. "Alright, that's all I can do for now. Your wound's _bad_ , though; we need to get you to a hospital."

"Just a sec…" Barry grunted, looking to his shoulder, impressed with the work. "... Alright, but… I just gotta ask, since you've been grillin' me, pal…" He laughed, shaking his head, but soon frowned, trying to be more serious. "... Did you kill Rye?"

"What!?" Jeremiah flinched. "Kill Rye? No! That was Julian, remember!?" He was shocked that Barry would come to that conclusion, though he was even more shocked when the journalist laughed right afterwards.

"I should've fuckin' known…" Barry sighed, leaning his head back against the tunnel wall. "We were duped. You didn't kill anyone… Which means you're still in the game. Your life's still at risk, pal."

He held up his shotgun, placing it in Jeremiah's hands. "You take point. We need to get outta here."

"What about the others…?" Jeremiah wondered, taking the gun, examining it. It was in good condition, but there was only one shot left in it.

"If we can get to 'em, we're taking them with us." Barry grinned. "Like I said, Jeremiah- we're gonna live for-fucking-ever, got that? _Nothing_ can kill us now."

"You could bleed out." Jeremiah reminded him with a frown. "And I could get shot by the 'troopers' around here."

"Yeah, but besides those things!" Barry laughed, trying to take his mind off of the pain. "Speaking of the troopers- they were talkin' in a language I don't recognize, pal. Not English, not Japanese, and definitely not French."

"I can't imagine you speaking French _or_ Japanese…" Jeremiah didn't want to put any thought into what a New-Yorkian Japanese accent sounded like. "Alright. So we're moving, then? I came from the basement, but the trapdoor's locked…"

"Trapdoor?" Barry hummed. "You mean the one that was mentioned in the first trial? You were done there that whole time? Damn, that's screwy; I checked that lock a couple of times, myself. Wish I took a better shot at getting it open… But, I bet we could take a chance with that shotgun?"

Jeremiah thought about it. "You're… Suggesting shooting the trapdoor?" He frowned, unsure of that idea.

"Well, it's either that or we play 'hide and go seek' with a bunch of armed military men, all while you have to deal with a bleedin' Barry and a one-shot shotgun." The journalist laughed. "We'd have better chances in the manor, right?"

Jeremiah figured that was right. What the hell, right? There were weapons in the manor, so Jeremiah could ditch the shotgun and grab a wrench or something. "Alright, fine. Let's go."

The mechanic led the way through the tunnels, taking point with his shotgun, moving through the halls and checking around the corners, making sure nobody was near them. Barry moved close behind, doing his best to keep his grunts of pain low, wanting to keep quiet as they moved through the underground maze.

Eventually, they found the door Jeremiah had come through. The mechanic moved back inside the basement, never imagining he'd be relieved to find himself back inside here. Barry closed the door behind them, noticing the keypad nearby.

"10122018…" Barry read out. "That's a date. How'd you guess it?"

"Well, December 10th was the day I was kidnapped." Jeremiah admitted. "That was the only date I remembered being important… 12102018 didn't work, so, I just flipped the month and the day." He explained, noticing that the journalist seemed to be peering at the numbers.

"... That's the last day I remember, too. December 10th." Barry shook his head. "... D'ya think it's Christmas Day, Jeremiah?"

"God, I hope not." The mechanic scoffed. "This would be the shittiest Christmas Day ever. Plus, I wouldn't want to spend a Christmas without my girl, Marine. I can't imagine leavin' her alone for a holiday."

"I can't imagine being without my fellas and family during Christmas." Barry gave Jeremiah a light smile. "But, I like to think my folks would be pretty proud knowing I kicked some ass on Christmas day, y'know? Instead of moping about how I couldn't be with them."

Jeremiah blinked, nodding in response. "Well, uh… Yeah, I guess I get that."

"Merry fuckin' Christmas, Jeremiah." Barry grinned. "Let's get everyone outta here."

Jeremiah smirked. "Merry Christmas." He pointed his shotgun to the trapdoor, carefully lining his shot, and firing.

* * *

Now patched up, Tsumiko took deep breaths, sitting on the floor of the trial room, with April standing above her, placing her hands proudly on her hips.

"Fuck yeah, my talent was useful in this hellhole for once!~" She grinned. "Ultimate Trapper, April Nun, contributed!"

"You contributed, and now you're shirtless." Terry deadpanned, still looking away. "Why couldn't we have used my shirt?"

"Shut up, Terry, I'm busy feeling _free~_ " April spread her arms, letting out a sigh of contentment.

Tsumiko laughed. For what felt like the first time in this hellhole, Tsumiko genuinely laughed, more than happy with April and Terry's bickering. Now that Tyson and Harold were silent- Tyson from passing out from the pain, Harold out of acceptance- it finally felt like they had won. "April, just let me give you my jacket at least. Do you really want Terry to see you like that?"

April smiled, happy to see Tsumiko look anything but gloomy for once. "That'd be cool; thanks, Tsumiko." She took the sharpshooter's leather jacket, a fair trade for the cloth of April's shirt.

"So can I look now?" Terry sighed, flicking his wrist.

"I never said you _couldn't_ look in the first place." April teased, turning around and returning to her spot in the trial grounds.

"That…" Terry flushed a bright red color, but shook his head, ignoring April. "Wh-whatever. Monokuma! Is Tyson dead? Can we vote Harold now?"

"Okay, _first_ of all, thank you Terry for acknowledging my existence. I feel important to the plot once more!~" Monokuma beamed. "Second of all- _you can't vote!_ You're a free culprit, you're out of the game! Y'know, thanks to you falling for Tyson's trap and brutally electrocuted Dru!"

Terry grimaced; shit. He had almost forgotten. "I… O-Oh…" He flinched, rubbing his arm.

"Hey, fuck you Monokuma, I was trying to get him to _forget_ that!" April glared.

"Wait, was that why you were messing with me?" Terry shook his head, suddenly understanding April's weird behavior.

"Duh? I don't know about you but the only thing that's been keeping me sane this last hour is clinging onto you and Tsumiko. If either of you start losing it, I'm fucking done, got it?" The trapper glared. "So, just… Focus on anything else! We can think about Dru later, yeah?"

Terry grimaced, but nodded, understanding. "R-Right… You're right. Thank you, April." The boy smiled a bit before turning back to Monokuma. "So, uh… You didn't answer my question; is Tyson dead?"

"Doesn't look like it." Monokuma shrugged, hopping off his throne and walking over to Tyson's bleeding body. He poked it, noticing the boy was still breathing. "Nope, he's alive. Barely alive, but still alive, so it doesn't count as a murder!"

"Son of a bitch…" Tsumiko went from a cheery mood to a much more bothered one as she got back to her feet, moving to her spot in the trial room. "So… Now what…?"

"Are you out of bullets?" April wondered. Tsumiko shrugged, unsure; she checked her gun's chamber.

One bullet had been fired by Aaron to kill Nick.

A second bullet had been fired by Tsumiko, trying to hit Aaron.

A third bullet had been fired to break Tyson's dagger mid-air.

The fourth bullet was spent on Tyson.

The fifth was on Harold, who was currently in the corner with a bleeding foot; he seemed to be trying to bandage the wound with his socks, but that wasn't working out well for him.

There was one final bullet in the chamber.

"I can end it." Tsumiko let out a deep sigh. "I have one more bullet."

"Oh, thank god." April grinned. "Do it, then, girly!"

Tsumiko was going to prepare herself to shoot Tyson, but at that moment, something strange occurred; the elevator moved. Tsumiko, April, and Terry all turned to the elevator, which moved on its own, going up, back to the manor.

"... Uhhhh…" Terry blinked. "Wait… What? Did someone call it up there?"

"Nobody's up there… Right?" April wondered. "I mean, uh… Unless…"

Tsumiko bit her lip, opting to keep her last bullet for now, pointing it towards the elevator. Worst case scenario, she wasted her last bullet and had to kill Tyson another way. For now, she had to worry about the possible threat coming through those doors.

* * *

Barry and Jeremiah had restocked in the storage room, grabbing what items they needed. Barry ate through a pack of trail mix faster than Jeremiah had ever seen a man eat before, and Jeremiah grabbed a wrench and a drill to use as weapons. While something like a knife might have been more effective, Jeremiah was more used to his tools, and figured his proficiency with them might make them more effective combat weapons… Maybe. He was just spitballing here.

Barry picked up a crowbar with his good arm, grinning. "Alright, pal. So, where d'ya think the others are?" He walked up to the exit, opening the door slowly, noticing that nobody seemed to be patrolling around there.

"Probably in the trial room." Jeremiah guessed. "I remember hearing the body discovery announcement go off just before I left the basement… They could still be in there."

"Then that's where we'll go!" Barry grinned. "The elevator should still be in the ballroom, right?"

Jeremiah nodded. "Yeah, but, should we really go down there? We wouldn't have a way to escape, and the people behind this game might just outright kill ya. Going down there might not solve anything."

"Well, here's my logic: I'm fucked either way, right?" Barry shrugged. "If I hide away, they'll find me eventually. At least if I go to the trial room, I'm facing them head-on, and we might be able to fight back."

Jeremiah wasn't sure of this, but the mechanic shrugged, figuring he didn't have any better plans up his sleeves. "Alright, yeah. I guess you're right. But I'm not letting them get to ya so easily; we're gonna live forever, right?" He grinned. Barry grinned back, nodding.

The two of them rushed out into the hall, keeping their movements silent as they peeked into the ballroom; both were shocked to see all kinds of electrical equipment, an electric chair, and the burnt corpse of Dru West in the center of the room.

"Sweet Jesus…" Jeremiah grimaced, while Barry moved his hand to take off his hat and put it over his chest out of respect; however, he had forgotten that he had given his hat to Tsumiko. Damn. He simply put his hand over his chest, bowing his head for a moment out of respect.

The two entered the room, moving behind Dru to find the elevator. Barry pressed a button to call it, and the two peered down to see the elevator slowly moving up to reach them.

"Just gotta give it a minute…" Jeremiah bit his lip. "Wish there was a 'go faster than a snail's pace' button on this damn thing.."

"Oi!" Jeremiah and Barry turned to see two men enter the room, both in gas masks and uniforms, holding swords. They yelled out to the two of them in some language they both didn't recognize.

"Uh… Does that mean 'happy to see you'?" Jeremiah's eyes widened as he lifted up his drill and wrench.

"Yeah, I think they're really happy to see us!" Barry rolled his eyes with a laugh, motioning to the soldiers with his bad arm, wincing at the pain. "Hey, fellas! Come and play!"

The two soldiers looked between each other, nodding, before rushing the two teenagers.

The soldier that ran after Jeremiah held his sword up high, slashing it down, though the mechanic dodged, smacking his opponent across the chest with his wrench. The soldier was knocked back, but continued his assault, slashing from left to right, causing Jeremiah to jump back in surprise.

The soldier who rushed after Barry lunged with his sword, expecting the journalist to dodge; he was surprised to find that the boy instead chose to counter-attack with his crowbar, knocking the two weapons against one another, both bodies pushing against their respective weapon, trying to win a struggle for their lives.

"My folks always told me that if I ever got in a fight…" Barry grinned, huffing as he pushed harder. "It ain't about honor… It's about winning! So I'm gonna play dirty!"

He kicked the soldier hard in the knee, causing him to lose his balance, allowing the journalist to smack him over the back with the crowbar, forcing the man onto the ground.

Jeremiah, running out of space, threw his wrench at his opponent; however, the soldier dodged, seeming confident and reflexive. But in that same moment, Jeremiah lunged with a yell, turning on his drill and piercing the man's chest, causing the gas-masked soldier to cry out, being pushed back by the immense pain, falling into the elevator shaft behind him. Jeremiah let go of the drill, watching as the man hit the top of the elevator, groaning.

"Um…" The mechanic took a couple of steps back, realizing what was about to happen. The soldier was unable to move in time, and when the elevator moved all the way back up, he was crushed against the ceiling of the device, causing the elevator itself to not be able to reach the very top of its journey; instead, some sparks went off, and the machine seemed to be malfunctioning thanks to the unexpected now-corpse of the soldier.

"Just get in!" Barry yelled, diving into the elevator. Jeremiah followed, jumping inside, pressing the button to go down. The elevator began moving once more, but not before the soldier attempted to dive in after them, waving his sword; the two men yelled, ducking for cover, able to dodge the man's swipes.

"G-Grrrrk…!" The man tried to slash more, but soon found that _maybe_ trying to dive into a moving elevator was a mistake, as he found himself crushed between the top of the door and the floor of the ballroom; soon, Jeremiah and Barry heard a sickening ' _snap_ ' as the man's bones gave into the force, and his light died out.

The elevator, however, could no longer move, what with the soldier's body jamming the way.

"H-Holy shit…" Jeremiah shivered. "Ooooh sweet Lordy… I'm going to be sick…"

Barry pressed the button to move the elevator up, doing his best to ignore the blood that now covered himself, Jeremiah, and plenty of the elevator. The elevator only moved up somewhat before sparking again, but that was enough room for the journalist to push the corpse out of the elevator, allowing the two to move down once more.

"Well, I'm gonna be honest with you, Jeremiah…" Barry sighed, heart beating a million miles a second after that fight. "It's a miracle we're alive. I've had plenty of dumb luck before, but _that?_... I'm starting to think these soldiers don't know what they're doing."

"..." Jeremiah gulped, trying to recompose himself. "Y-Yeah, I… I mean… You got a shotgun off of one of them, and… They couldn't find you in their own tunnels for a whole day… And… That just happened…" The mechanic relched, holding his chest. "Urrgh…."

"The soldiers are incompetent…" Barry mused. "They speak a language I don't recognize… We're certainly not in any major world power… But this kind of 'game' could only be organized and run by some sort of government, or someone with plenty of control…"

"H-Hey, I, I know you're busy trying to crack the code and all Barry…" Jeremiah grimaced. "But, can we save it for later? I… I think I'm going to pass out."

"Right, right, sorry pal. Let's just keep calm." Barry took a deep breath. "We can make it through this. We're gonna live forever, right?"

"We're gonna live forever." Jeremiah repeated, the line moving through his head; that silly phrase somehow managed to keep him sane, so he kept saying it. "We're gonna live forever… We're gonna be fine…"

"Hell yeah, pal!" Barry grinned. "That's the spirit! Keep thinking like that!"

The elevator moved further and further downwards, leading them to the trial room…

* * *

Terry's jaw dropped as the elevator doors opened. "O-Oh my god…!? What the hell!?"

Out of the elevator came two very bloody men. Jeremiah and Barry glanced around the trial room in surprise, noticing that there was a fair share of blood around here, too; Tyson was passed out and bleeding, Harold was bleeding from his foot, and Tsumiko had a bloody wound that was bandaged.

"Shit… Are you lot all that's left?" Barry grimaced, but looked to Tsumiko with a smile. "Hey, dame! I knew you'd make it!"

"Barry…" Tsumiko's eyes widened, and she lowered her gun, shocked. "How.. How the hell are you alive!? And why is _Jeremiah_ with you!?"

"Okay, first off, I didn't kill Rye!" Jeremiah shouted, entering the room with caution. "That was Tyson's lie! I was in the basement this whole time!"

"And I wasn't killed!... I'm kinda on the verge right now, though." The journalist let out a weak laugh, holding his wounded shoulder with a grunt. "A-Anyone wanna fill us in on what's going on around here?... Why is that wild dame shirtless?"

"I don't think you get to judge how I look right now." April glared, pouting as she tried to close the jacket around her bra. "What the fuck is with you two!? You're covered in blood!"

As the five discussed, Barry and Jeremiah returned to their respective spots in the trial room; Harold slowly limped his way to his spot, cowering, making sure Tsumiko wouldn't shoot at him as he tried to get a handle on what the _hell_ was going on around here.

"S-So, um… N-Now what?" Harold grimaced. "M-Monokuma isn't saying anything…. I-Is… Is Tyson dead?" He whimpered, scared for his friend.

"I sure hope so." Jeremiah frowned. "But that isn't important. Right now, we've gotta get the hell out of here."

"And how are we going to do that?" April scoffed. "The game's still going on, right? And now we have two more people! What does that mean!?"

" **Well, I suppose this means the game must come to an end."**

An unfamiliar voice spoke into the room with a thick accent. His voice came from Monokuma, who sat on his throne with an unusually-expressionless posture.

" **I have seen enough. It is clear that the bright hope for my nation is within this room. You may all go free; I shall be taking Tyson."**

What?

The six remaining players looked between each other, confused.

"Um… Wh-what?" Terry tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. "Wh-what does that mean…?"

"I… I recognize that voice…" Harold rubbed his head, trying to think. "Th-that voice…"

"You recognize that voice?" Barry wondered, looking around the room. "Does anyone else recognize that fella's voice?"

Tsumiko bit her lip, shaking her head, but got an idea. She pulled out the paper from earlier; the one written in a language she couldn't understand. She opened it up, showing it to Harold.

"Can you read this?" She asked. Harold blinked, peering towards the paper…

"I-I can…!" His eyes widened. "That's in Novoselic!"

Jeremiah grimaced, holding his chest. "Wait… Novoselic…? What does that mean?"

It all clicked for Barry. The journalist finally got it.

"Incompetent soldiers… Flowers found only in Novoselic… A document in Novoselic…!" Barry pounded his fist against his podium. "Christ, gang! We're _in_ Novoselic!"

" **That is… Correct."** 'Monokuma' spoke. **"I am our Great Army's General. You may call me… Fernand. I am the one who organized this project."**

"Why!?" April shouted, glaring at the Monokuma bear. "Why the hell would you do that!? Why would you make us all go through _shit_ like this!?"

" **The reason is simple…"** 'Monokuma spoke again. **"We need help."**

"Help…?" Harold echoed. "W-We do…?"

" **Allow me to explain…"**

* * *

The Third World War. It all started on December 10th, 2018.

A war that was waged due to the greed of the great nations, all vying for power on the world stage. A single assassination was all it took to start flaring tensions up until all-out war was declared.

Sides were taken with haste. Even the most neutral of countries had to stand by someone, or risk being annexed by the strong. There was only one country that had the diplomatic powers necessary to survive without taking a side…

Novoselic. A Nation of Peace. _The_ Nation of Peace. While the rest of the world was at war, Novoselic kept itself from being a target simply by convincing everyone else that they weren't worth the trouble. Their small nation grew during the turmoil, offering safety to thousands of refugees, all while growing a larger and larger army.

However, the army is composed of those who could not fight before. They are inexperienced, and Novoselic is not known for conflict… But with the world war at its peak, and with the nations of the world having nearly killed each other off, now was the time to strike.

They accepted talented refugees from all over the world, promising to keep them safe. However, when they had gained a refugee that was said to be talented in warfare… That all changed. They saw their chance… But they weren't sure if Tyson could really pull their armies together. He was just a child, after all, and while he was clearly talented, he might not yet have the guts to stomach warfare and all of its horrors…

So, the government of Novoselic created a game.

A game packed with talented young people, designed to test the tactician's nerves and skills...

* * *

" **Glory to the Nation of Novoselic!"** 'Fernand' cried. **"This is a game to ensure that the talent of the Tactician is not a lie!"**

"You're kidding me…" Tsumiko glared. "This wasn't our game… It was Tyson's! This was all just a test for him!?"

" **Of course. And he performed outstandingly; he had manipulated you all so that he four culprits could go free. Of course, in the end, he did 'fail' by letting himself get shot… But he still has a bright talent! One that we can use to make the world ours!"**

The young men and women of the room would have called this all insane. They would have cried out and said that it was all lies… If they hadn't remembered…

"... The town I was hiding out in… Got bombed…" Tsumiko grimaced, holding a hand to her chest. "So many people died…"

Barry was leaning over, looking sick. "Urk… Grandma… We had to leave her behind, and…. Shit! Shit! Why is all of this only coming back to us NOW!?" The journalist seemed uncharacteristically angry, tears in his eyes at the remembrance of the death of one of his 'folks'. "What did you do to us!?"

"Marine…. She's still at home.. She's waiting for me…" Jeremiah mumbled to himself, horrified. "Marine… Please, please be okay…"

" **We took away your memories of the war, of course."** Fernand spoke. **"But none of that matters now, does it? Do you really need more explanation than I've already given you…? You may leave."**

"We… We may leave?" April shuddered. "Really? Just like that?"

" **Well I don't see a reason to kill you."** Fernand admitted. **"You ARE talented young people, after all. Tsumiko is a brilliant sharpshooter. Jeremiah is a skilled mechanic. Barry is a capable journalist. April is a fantastic trapper, and… Well. To be honest I have no idea how Terry is alive right now."**

Terry sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I get it… C'mon, who wants to insult me next?" He flicked his wrist, frowning. "Anyone?"

" **The point is… You may go. Killing you would be a waste. The test is over. We will be taking Tyson, allowing him to heal so that Novoselic can use his skills, and… The rest will be history."** The Monokuma that Fernand was speaking through grinned.

Everyone in the room glanced over to look at each other; each person was unsure. This seemed almost too good to be true…

"... W-We can go now." Harold spoke up, shuddering. "I-It'll all be okay, and… W-We get to live…"

"Yeah, uh, can we just… Leave Harold behind though? Forever?" April frowned. "Like, seriously, fuck him, am I right guys?"

"I'm okay with that." Tsumiko admitted. And for the first time since the game started, _everyone_ agreed with April about Harold. The executioner simply shrugged in response, shaking his head.

"Th-that's okay… I want to be with Tyson, a-anyway." The boy frowned. "He… He might've done b-bad things, but… H-He's still my friend…"

"Wait." Terry grimaced. "We… We can't just leave like this, guys."

"We can't?" Jeremiah blinked, glancing over to the animal photographer. "Whaddya mean? We've gotta leave, don't we?" His thoughts were of home and Marine; he didn't want to spend another moment in this hell.

"I'm with Jeremiah, pal." Barry flinched. "We've been given a straight-shot out of here. What's the holdup?"

"The _holdup_ is that if we let Tyson live, Novoselic is going to go to war." Terry glared. "D-Don't you remember what the war was like when we got here? Guys… The rest of the world would be _screwed_ if Novoselic has a big enough army! Especially with a leader like Tyson!"

" **Don't think about doing anything foolish…"** Fernand warned. **"Soldiers are almost to your location… They're just… Goddammit, what do you mean they're LOST!?'**

"We have time!" Terry shouted. "If we kill Tyson, we can stop Novoselic and keep the world safe!"

"Are you out of your goddamned mind, Terry!?" April shouted. "This isn't our fight! We can just leave and be free, right!?"

"Y-Yeah! We can't k-kill Tyson!" Harold glared. "H-He's my friend!"

"New's flash Harold: nobody fucking cares!" April hissed. "But, he's still kinda right! If we kill him, we get killed, too!"

"But if we _don't_ kill him, millions of people could die!" Terry shouted. "Don't you guys get it!? This whole game was for him! Just him! He's going to be used to further the war!"

"I… I don't know." Barry admitted, grimacing, putting a hand on his wounded shoulder and grunting. "He's just a kid. Could they really use him to win wars…?"

"Even if they can't, they'll _try_!" Terry grimaced. "And if they try, more people will die meaningless deaths!"

"Oh my fucking god…" April put her hands over her face. "Please no… I don't want to deal with this shit anymore…"

"Terry, we can't do that." Tsumiko winced. "We can't! We've worked too hard to die now, and Tyson is on the verge of death anyway!"

"E-Exactly! I can't die!" Jeremiah glared. "We're gonna live forever and all, yeah? That's a motto I can get behind! I need to go see Marine again!"

"N-Nobody's going to listen t-to you, Terry!" Harold shouted, glaring. His attitude towards the boy had shifted quickly in defense of Tyson. "We can't kill him!"

That cut deep for Terry; however, now that the animal photographer was sure of what was going on here, he couldn't let it stand. It was true that they had done so much to get here, and they had prevailed through a lot to survive, but…

If they didn't do anything here, more deaths were going to occur. There would be more Julians, Ryes, Deserters, Pattys, Arthurs, Georgias, Nicks, Hannahs, Drus, and Roses who would all die because of this ever-expanding war.

He just couldn't let that stand!

"Jeremiah, what's going to happen to Marine if you let Tyson live?" Terry turned to the mechanic. "What's going to happen to your family? Your friends? What are you going to do when _that guy_ has a fucking army to control!?"

"I…" The mechanic clutched his chest. "How could… This is ridiculous, a-ah mean, think about it; _Novoselic_ going to war? What if it's just a trick anyway?"

"If it's just a trick, then they want us to keep Tyson alive for some other reason; we can't give them what they want!" Terry refuted, quickly turning to Barry. "Barry! What about _your_ family!? What would your grandma think if you had the chance to stop a war, and you didn't take it!?"

"..." Barry was hit deep by that one. "Ah… Well… Fuck. I mean… I guess you have a point, pal-"

"Tsumiko! How are you going to be able to get back to Japan and apologize for what you did if there _is_ no Japan to get back to!?" Terry pleaded, trying to reason with her. "If the people aren't there! If your friends have been killed by that fucker in the corner!?"

Tsumiko grimaced. "I… I wouldn't be able to go and apologize in the first place if I was _dead_!"

"Really? Because saving all their lives sounds like the best kind of apology to me." Terry frowned. Tsumiko was shocked at that, but considered it…

"And April-" Terry was about to speak, but got waved off.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck it…" The trapper groaned, holding her forehead. "It's either we do this, or millions die, right…? Y'know what? I don't care anymore. I've wanted this guy dead for the past few hours anyway, let's just do it."

"G-Guys!" Harold pleaded. "Y-You can't! You'd all die! Y-You don't want to die, d-do you!?"

Barry laughed. "Ah, that's funny! He thinks we'll die that easily!" The journalist grinned, regaining some of his courage. "Are you kidding me, pal? We're strong! Gang, we're gonna make it! We're gonna live forever!"

Jeremiah took a deep breath. "I… I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let Tyson live here." The mechanic admitted. "Terry is right. We can't let this happen."

" **Soldiers! SOLDIERS!"**

"Tsumiko, shoot that fucker! Shoot him right in the head!" April shouted. "We can't let this happen! We can't give these fuckers what they want!"

Tsumiko took a deep breath, pulling out her gun. "... Alright then. _This_ is over."

The remaining players heard the rushing of feet as several soldiers closed in on the trial room from the underground tunnels. Barry grinned, readying his crowbar, while the rest of the room was left literally defenseless. Tsumiko not included, though as she walked over to Tyson, she prepared to use the only defense she had on killing him.

"You can't!" Harold cried. "You can't, please! H-He's my friend!"

Tsumiko put the barrel of her gun up against Tyson's head, ensuring a clean kill. She turned to the others.

"Are we all okay with this…?" She grimaced, still scared.

"We're already all-in, dame!" Barry winked with a grin. "Give 'im hell!"

"Well, we're probably dead soon anyway." April sighed. "Just fucking kill him already."

"We don't got a choice no more." Jeremiah rubbed his arm. "Finish it."

Terry simply nodded. He was scared as hell, sure… But this was what had to be done. Tsumiko nodded back, turning to the tactician that Novoselic wanted to turn into their own pawn…

And pulled the trigger, ending a life.

* * *

The year was 2020.

The third World War had ended. Many nations had fallen… And, yet, no more bloodshed was had. There were many survivors. The nations that had not been wiped out were beginning to rebuild, and the most prosperous nation at the time, Novoselic, and kept its promise of peace to all nations.

After all… Had it attempted to go to war with such a terribly-trained military, they would have been destroyed.

However, in the end, it was not able to keep its promise to keep the talented refugees safe. Officially, most of them died to an off-target bombing caused by some other, unidentified nation… Though only a few knew the truth. And fewer were willing to speak the truth.

After all of that bloodshed, the world was facing a serious morale crisis. Cultures had collapsed, and so many people had lost hope. There were few people left alive that could inspire the masses, and fewer still that could inspire themselves. The majority of people walked the Earth without drive…

 **But seven walked the Earth with powerful hopes.**

* * *

"We can't let them die!"

"You think I don't know that!?"

"Hurry, hurry!"

"I'm hurrying, dammit!"

Nyla and Aaron ran through the underground tunnels, each holding a rifle. They rushed past some confused soldiers, shooting them down, moving through the system with an agile ease.

"How did you learn how to shoot like that?" Aaron wondered, moving through the halls, being wary of any hiding soldiers.

"My brother taught me… Before he died." Nyla admitted sheepishly. "What about you?"

"My uncle's pretty conservative." The pharmacist explained as they moved close to the trial room. "He always said, 'no nephew of mine is going to grow up to be a pussy!'... He also disapproved of my hairstyle."

"Aww, but I think your hair's pretty!"

"Shut up."

The two moved ever-closer to their goal, shooting down threats along the way. Aaron picked up a radio off of one of the soldiers, hearing a general's voice come in through it in that damned Novoselic language he had come to recognize. The man rolled his eyes, tossing the radio away, continuing to lead the way through the tunnels.

"So how did you memorize the tunnel system so quickly?" Nyla grinned. "I've been here for, like, two days longer and I couldn't do that! Even with the big map!"

"Yeah, well, turns out when you've just murdered your friend, your mind wants to focus on _anything_ but that." Aaron spoke dryly, causing Nyla to shut up and nod, understanding. They were both still.. Unwell, but they took it in different ways. Nyla was trying to reconcile for what she had done, but Aaron was still processing his own crimes.

The two had finally made it to a stone door; they pressed a nearby button, causing the wall to open up.

"C'mon, this way!" Aaron shouted, surprising the people within the courtroom, who had thought their time was up. "Go go go!"

Despite knowing who those two were, everyone besides Harold had begun moving towards them.

"How did you get here!?" Tsumiko glared at Aaron, _especially_ pissed at him. The pharmacist frowned, recognizing that anger, but not responding to it.

"Just go." He frowned. "We're saving your lives."

"Thanks asshole!" April chirped, dashing past him and Nyla. Terry followed behind quickly, scared of the two murderers, but deciding that this was their best shot. Jeremiah, Barry, and Tsumiko weren't so sure, but looking between each other, they eventually came to the same conclusion, rushing into the tunnel.

Aaron looked to Harold, who sat down next to Tyson's body, sniffling. The executioner held onto the tactician's cold hand, wailing, bleeding on the floor…

Aaron sighed and shut the door, leaving them behind.

* * *

Aaron, April, Barry, Jeremiah, Nyla, Terry, and Tsumiko stepped out into the sunlight for the first time in over a week. The sun nearly blinded them all, but it was a warm, welcoming sight.

"I can't believe… We're outside…" Terry fell to his knees, grinning. "We're… We're outside…!" He laughed, gripping the grass with his hands, glancing around at the green, open fields around them.

"Oh sweet heaven…" Jeremiah collapsed, laying onto the ground, panting. "Ah've never ran so hard in mah life... " His accent grew thick as he tried to recuperate.

April just laughed. "That's because you ran with that big, thick jacket! You should've run with less clothes, like me!~"

Aaron took off his lab coat, simply wearing a vest now, giving it to April. "Here. This can actually button up. Wear it, or we're leaving you behind."

April pouted, taking off the unclosed jacket and trading it for the bloody lab coat.

"I told ya, gang! So long as we stay determined, we're always gonna live forever!" Barry laughed. "... Would ya believe I just made that phrase up today to keep Jeremiah calm?"

"What!? You said that was your motto!" Jeremiah's eyes widened.

"I lied." Barry chuckled sheepishly. "But, hey, it worked out in the end, right gang!?"

"Can we please leave Barry?" Tsumiko raised her hand.

"Hey!" The journalist feigned being offended. "I thought you liked me!"

"No."

"So what happened?" Terry couldn't help but ask, looking up at Aaron and Nyla. "Why did you come to save us?"

"We couldn't let you _die_ , could we?" Nyla grinned. "I mean.. We never wanted anyone to die in the first place! It was those assholes that _made_ us kill people!"

"..." Aaron disagreed internally, blaming himself for Nick's death; he couldn't bring himself to push that onto anyone else but himself. "We… Would have brought Conchordia, but she was in a different ward. Besides, she seemed to be, uh… Having her own fun."

"Turns out she's really, really good at manipulating people… Scary good…" Nyla shuddered. "But, hey, we're away from her now, and we're away from the killing game! We're alive!"

"Wait…" Tsumiko rubbed her forehead. "What… What about everything else? The names written on that list, the letter, we never translated it…"

"Ah, right. We were told about that." Aaron pushed up his glasses. "They had dropped those two notes in as hints for Tyson as to what was going on. I'm assuming that's what you're talking about?"

Nyla frowned. "Right, right… Apparently, Julian, Rye, and Patty were all meant to kick off the game… Makes sense, right? Julian was a sick guy in a wheelchair, Rye was too small to fight back against anyone else, and Patty… Apparently she had antisocial personality disorder…"

"Oh my god, Patty was a psycho? Who kneeeeeew?" April sighed. "So they wanted her to kill… Guess that didn't work out as intended."

"They had other motives planned and everything. Tyson worked faster than they expected." Aaron remembered. "... By the way… You _did_ kill him, right?"

"Shot him right in the head and checked his pulse." Tsumiko nodded. "He's dead."

"Thank god!" Nyla breathed, relieved. "You don't understand, if those guys got a hold of someone that smart… The world's in a bad enough shape…"

"So we saved the world." Jeremiah grinned. "Heh. Never thought I'd ever get to say that."

"That was some good work you did back there, Terry!" Barry grinned. "I was starting to lose my cool, but you kept it! I was wrong about you, fella." He put a hand on Terry's shoulder, and the boy blinked, surprised.

"U-Uh… Really? I just.. I felt like I was _losing_ my cool more than anything…" The boy admitted, coughing awkwardly.

"Barry's right. You did a good job." Tsumiko smiled. "I didn't think you were capable of anything like that."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we all had you tagged as a loser, not anyone who could convince us all to stop being bitches." April grinned, putting her hands behind her head.

"... Thanks…?" Terry shook his head.

"So, uh… Now what?" Jeremiah wondered. "Does… Anyone even know where Novoselic is on the map?"

"I do!" Nyla grinned. "I figured we could move north and get to another passive country, and from there, we could try to get far away! Maybe to America or something!"

"We would be chased for the rest of our lives, of course…" Aaron frowned. "We harbor secrets that Novoselic would never want getting out…"

"We won't let them get to us." Tsumiko spoke up, determined. "They can try all they want; we _will_ tell everyone what they did."

"Yeah… We have to tell the world…" Terry frowned. "So nothing like this can happen again. We can't let anymore 'games' like that one be played, right?"

"Of course!" Barry beamed. "Man… I can't believe it, gang! We lived, and we're gonna tell the tale! I gotta say, there were some real close ones there!"

"No shit! I'm still filled with adrenaline!" April laughed. "It's such a fucking rush!~" She grinned, turning pink at the thought.

"April no. April down. Bad April." Terry tugged her back into reality. "... We all _seriously_ need to go see some psychologists…"

"Please. I feel like I'm going to snap… And kill April." Tsumiko admitted.

"Hey!" April pouted, agitated.

"We'll worry about that once we're safe." Aaron shook his head. "But, I have to ask… Jeremiah. How did you know the code to get into the tunnels?"

"Huh?" Jeremiah blinked. "Oh, well… It was 10122018. December 10th, 2018. The day I was kidnapped."

"What?" Aaron rose an eyebrow. "But the code was '29582742'. It was randomized every day…"

"Holy shit… Did Jeremiah just get _lucky_!?" April shouted. "Are we all just the fucking luckiest people ever!?"

"I… I don't know." Jeremiah admitted, confused. "I… I really don't know how that could have been possible. I just… Entered in the only date I figured was relevant… That can't be a coincidence, right?"

"Ah, who cares?" Nyla beamed. "If we got lucky or not, what matters is we got out, right? We should get moving before some soldiers show up!"

"Give Tsumiko a gun." Barry grinned. "That dame'll keep us all safe."

"You better not expect me to pull _all_ the weight." Tsumiko smirked, taking Nyla's rifle. "Weren't you the one who avoided soldiers for a whole day in the tunnels?"

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll do a _bit_ of work… But I'm still terribly wounded so maybe I also shouldn't." The journalist laughed. "Oh, oh my god…. I actually forgot… About my shoulder… And now I think I'm in pain again ow ow ow…"

"Christ, Barry…" Jeremiah sighed. "If you don't bleed out by the time we get to a hospital, it'll be a damned miracle."

"Then let's get moving now." Terry smiled. "W-We can't let anyone else die, right…? Not now that we're back in control of our own lives!"

"Well said." Aaron agreed. "Is everyone ready?"

 **With the sun setting in the distance, the seven agreed to travel together, moving through the fields of Novoselic to make it to safety.**

 **Their journey would be long and hard, but their drive to succeed helped them every step of the way… And while the world wept and mourned the loss of many, these seven moved on, providing a bright hope for the world.**

 **And so ends an unbelievable tale… A tale that would change the lives of many for generations to come.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6: Glory to a Nation of Liars - END**

 **Survivors: Aaron Wright, April Nun, Barry Berry, Jeremiah Core, Nyla Greens, Terry Holds, Tsumiko Yamamoto.**

 **Unknown: Conchordia Flight, Harold Slayne.**

 **Deceased: Arthur York, "The Deserter", Dru West, Georgia York, Hannah Snow, Julian Grendel, Nick Icarus, Patty Silvers, Rose Major, Rye Titan, Tyson Jin.**

 **Thank you so much for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed. This was one of the most fun things I've ever written, and, well… I hope it helped someone through a rough time. It helped me a lot.**


End file.
